Sunday, September beings
The fat phase is well in progress
The belly has emerged and droops Over
the boundaries it has come to find Restricting

We sat on the roof and chatted
The three of us all a little drunk
We pushed each other around
Testing the taste of hate

I am all soft now
Soft spoken
soft to the touch of others
Every motion on me
Feels impossibly violent

Late at night I feed and vomit
The words I have always said
Clutching the bed in a flayed position
With the intent of a dead man's embrace

I woke up tired today.
I woke up tired.
I woke up.
I woke.
"I am, I am, I am."