there's a certain dis a point ment
in being in between
as far as illusion can take me
that's how far i'll go
who wants any more
what does wanting prove
i want and hope and dream
leading to further wanting
a gnawing craving emptiness, so
the more i want the more i deny
wanting

i eat my face instead
my belly my breast, consuming
the pieces i hate most
struggle and twist
an almost ecstasy of self dis gust
feeding the emptiness with
bitter bits of flesh
it almost tastes good
to a starving woman any sus te nance
becomes addiction, and the very
act of deliberate starvation
a familiar friend
i empty, i want, i empty again
my head a cup, overflowing
with need, empty, need
with wanting, empty, wanting
and a certain dis a point ment
in living in between