I’ve been emptier,
reliving hunger for things never occured.
I’ve been at my fullest,
on sips of water, bordering thoughts absurd.
Ever so tempted,
to once again, derail into phases of hurt.

I’ve been cut to be sewn.
A project, failing to work.

Spongelike stomach,
dropping to depthless cores of the earth.
Emotions availed,
as a piece of me belongs in medical waste.

Crimson discarded worth.




© Aish