Long Days

I am tired of working 7 days a week.
I am tired of feeling ill all of the time and constantly fighting off infection and illness,
and not having the cash for a medical plan, or just the doctor's office in general.
Or a pack of fucking cigarettes.
I am tired of politely smiling at people when i refuse food when they ask me why i do not eat
or if I am on some diet.
I am not on a diet
This is how I am,
Always was
Always will be
I am tired of looking at food like some some kind of deathly parasite that will feed off of this host.

It is a love hate relationship
We live, we learn

I put on 4lbs.
I wanted to cry, beat the ground
tear down the walls

I lost them after I did nothing but drink, smoke and get high this weekend.
No parasite for me.

Not even the munchies.

It has been years since I touched the stuff, He never approved, I never argued.
I suppose it is some childish little group activity that happens at social gatherings.
I thought maybe I had outgrown it.

This time I just caved.
And god did it take the edge off.
Every thought just stopped, and all I could do was smell, feel and listen.
Blissful.

And my "friend" was lovely. He made A huge effort to get to our gathering that night,
so that he could see me, and then passed no judgement on my state of oozing into the fire and sand
and floor and sky.
He merely kept me warm, and appealed to every part of my heightened sense of touch,
in the most sensitive way.

He told me that I look starved in a good way.
That he loves my ribs and hips.
He is all about strange and distortion
and then normality,
music in the park.
He once questioned the small amount I eat.
I said I have a small stomach
He never brought it up again.
Perfect, Blissful

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