My tears are cold, my words are hot
I cry, I cringe, I coax
Food out of my mouth, I fight-- I fought
This is not a hoax.

My face is pulsing and red
My breath is heavy like lead
My eyes are bloodshot and dead
I feel an overwhelming sense of dread

I see chunks of food
Sprawling to the sink
The pain is tattooed
On my bloodied throat like ink

Then nothing, then nothing at all
My stomach is an empty hole, for days on end
I want to scream, I want to bawl
I need to make amends

Nothing is good, nothing is right
I want a peach, a cookie, a bite
There’s always something to fight
I’m infested with spite