Bulimic
My stomach turns violently,
Aching.
The stench of it still makes me gag
As it creeps up my nostrils,
Stinging.
I cough, splattering the wall
With tiny crimson droplets.
I see them glittering
Beyond my blurred vision.
The fresh rips in my abused throat
Burn from the stomach acid.
My mouth tastes of rust and salt,
of emptiness…
But I can not stop yet.
There’s still a chance
I’ve kept something down.
My tortured eyes stream,
Salty tears crawl down my face
Like raindrops on a windowpane…
And upon reaching my jaw line,
Drop,
Slip down the drain,
Following the swirl of mucus, blood and bile.
Aching.
The stench of it still makes me gag
As it creeps up my nostrils,
Stinging.
I cough, splattering the wall
With tiny crimson droplets.
I see them glittering
Beyond my blurred vision.
The fresh rips in my abused throat
Burn from the stomach acid.
My mouth tastes of rust and salt,
of emptiness…
But I can not stop yet.
There’s still a chance
I’ve kept something down.
My tortured eyes stream,
Salty tears crawl down my face
Like raindrops on a windowpane…
And upon reaching my jaw line,
Drop,
Slip down the drain,
Following the swirl of mucus, blood and bile.