Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Bulemic (she swallows)

The idea is right there.
Right in front of me and
I fondle it before I stick my
Finger down my throat to purge
Myself of this beautiful evil.
Here comes the bile, and I
Swallow it back down.

Another night of purging,
But the thick liquid never flows
Up my throat and over my teeth
And out my mouth.
I swallow it back down.

I just kept eating it with
Desire, a viscious
Repetitive circle
That lends me
No saving grace.

I poison the paranoia
While spitting out
Explanations for how I feel,
When I should do what I've
Always done,
Which is keep my
F(u)cking mouth calm and quiet.
It's too late for realizations.

It's too late for me.

The classic struggle of the
Sane to stay sane,
The insane to act a
Variable of normal,
For difference is intolerable.

I'm suffocating on the (what-ifs)
That keep swarming
From my mind.

Several morons, much like I,
Run rampant in a society
That expels them
Faster out of disgust,
Rather than confusion.

They cannot fathom the constant
Need to spill, to bleed.

July 5, 2007

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Bulemic (she swallows)

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