hunger

poem from the vault

Sometimes I don’t say sorry
So as not to impose
The burden of forgiving me
I feel my cruelest when

Someone calls me kind
& if I let myself feel entitled
To struggle I’ll lose sight
Of everything else

I really am a selfish person

At every intersection in
Every story I wanted
To find the answer
To the food I was tasting, or was it

Flesh turned frothwhite neurosis
From a young age I knew
I’d leap to deviance

So when someone else
Gets help for struggling
Forgiveness for saying sorry
Or food for being hungry

Oh
I forgot what I wanted to ask

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