deepundergroundpoetry.com
Food
Food
It is defined as nutrition, source of protein, but never the weapon that was in every single one of my nightmares.
Food tastes only of recovery now, measured out scoops and bile lying in wait in the back of my throat like a dark clothed mistress.
I think that I was seven when I learned that food and I would always battle this way,
A familiar dance, dominance, pain or not. That the grip she would have on me would burn onto the inside of skin like fire raised burning red welts.
That she would become a part of me, second skin; second nature.
Food
It is defined as nutrition, source or protein, but never the thing I could never run away from, never the object I could burn out of my skin.
And even after it all, they call this stage recovery.
They tell me this pain will not last me forever, that one day the love living dormant will flow into my empty bones, and I will once again be whole.
But they do not understand, even now.
Whole is everything that I am afraid of, that I will become someone I do not know.
And then she will win, and god, I am so tired of food winning.
I ache for the day I will win, the day she goes back to where she belongs.
The day I am so much more than whole, much more alive.
It is defined as nutrition, source of protein, but never the weapon that was in every single one of my nightmares.
Food tastes only of recovery now, measured out scoops and bile lying in wait in the back of my throat like a dark clothed mistress.
I think that I was seven when I learned that food and I would always battle this way,
A familiar dance, dominance, pain or not. That the grip she would have on me would burn onto the inside of skin like fire raised burning red welts.
That she would become a part of me, second skin; second nature.
Food
It is defined as nutrition, source or protein, but never the thing I could never run away from, never the object I could burn out of my skin.
And even after it all, they call this stage recovery.
They tell me this pain will not last me forever, that one day the love living dormant will flow into my empty bones, and I will once again be whole.
But they do not understand, even now.
Whole is everything that I am afraid of, that I will become someone I do not know.
And then she will win, and god, I am so tired of food winning.
I ache for the day I will win, the day she goes back to where she belongs.
The day I am so much more than whole, much more alive.
Published 21st Oct 2021
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21st Oct 2021 11:37am
I enjoy the frankness of the speaker's attitude and attempt to confront and address her issues with food--
I also enjoy the technique she takes of trying to "ground" her distorted perception of food by reciting facts:
"It is defined as nutrition, source or protein"--
There's also the power of the topic: food is possibly the most challenging addiction to address, because one can't simply avoid it;
There's a lot of potential here, and some nice techniques, and a good style in terms of how the author contends with her own relationship to food;
Much to enjoy!
I also enjoy the technique she takes of trying to "ground" her distorted perception of food by reciting facts:
"It is defined as nutrition, source or protein"--
There's also the power of the topic: food is possibly the most challenging addiction to address, because one can't simply avoid it;
There's a lot of potential here, and some nice techniques, and a good style in terms of how the author contends with her own relationship to food;
Much to enjoy!
21st Oct 2021 1:51pm
This is an amazing poem, I assume, of confession and self-discovery? Hugs and peace, Oral
