So Hungry

My stomach's full by I'm still so fucking hungry. Famished near exhaustion and worn down from an appetite for day-old t.v. dinners. I feel as if I'm wasting away delicately carrying my bones like old baggage. Wondering how I can feel so hollow and yet so weighed down by things I shouldn't even consider. I know I should eat but a cursory kitchen glance reveals cupboards empty as promises broken. Time to turn on, tune in, and drop this self-prescribed diet.

List in hand, sent shopping endless aisles for organically-grown presence of mind, though so many shelves left unstocked. I'm only able to find mass quantities of preprocessed substance and canned responses. Now thinking I should check out. Or rather check myself in.

But I have a hard time calling myself crazy when everyone else around me is falling to shambles. Not that it doesn't make it any less true. If only they'd loosen these restraints of complacency. A man could lose his mind in this suit-and-tie straitjacket of an existence.

Though much to the scientists' chagrin, they've yet to find a cure for this eating disorder. But my experience is extensive enough to know better. There's just one way to win this battle of malnutrition. Back to the drawing board for a second serving.


And still even when I eat, my stomach's still so fucking hungry.