T.I.F.U.

the fullness smothers.
the inspiration vanished.
not light, not easy.

motivation devoured
(along with everything else)

fat pig, She whispers.
does it hurt? you deserve it.
still the words won't come.

you can't hide from what you did.
this is fitting punishment.

I know what She did:
She snarled and ate all my words
and I deserve it --

She always whispers to me;
doesn't have to be this way.

if I am weightless
and the sunlight shines through me
will I find my words?

crawling on hands and skinned knees
promising never again

I'll stay clean, stay pure
I will show more self-control
I will stay empty!

just please bring them back to me.
take all else, but not my words

sugar burns like sin,
counting all the vile numbers
waiting, ignoring,

marking time, doing penance
(oh my god, I am so tired)