big girls don't cry except when it is absolutely not the right time to do so.
am i hungry or has the pit returned.
that stupid fucking pit.
its an eternal loop, circling in and out of itself.
floating dead centre in my gut.
particles of another girl explode and expand out of it,
overcome by this strange girl from the strange world.
i weep on my mothers lap,
i retch over porcelin, patterned.
seeing my sister for the first time in weeks,
she glows like an angel whom has just been ordained with the most beautiful halo.
she is so happy, so when she crys the pit punches me instead.
i must not be alone in any sort of emptiness,
that buzzing that usually exists within me,
my infernal, internal monlogue disappears when the pit arrives.
and i miss it.
so i need voices of people i have never can never will never meet.
i swing between reaching inside of myself and cutting the cancerous pit out,
and reaching inside myself and shutting the cancerous pit up.
one would be instant, the other takes ages.
it takes AGES.
i have ages, but i cant bear thinking that i'll spend those ages,
locked away with an enternal pit of greed and a girl id love to forget.
it will eat me alive, i will suffer erosion.
erosion of the soul, of the spirit.
looking people in the eye is impossible when the girl in your stomach has none herself.
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