Friday Morning Feast

I never really know what triggers it,

But it always starts the same.

A growling in my stomach

And a whisper in my mind,

Telling me of all the things

My pantry contains

That could fill me,

Leave me satisfied.

For breakfast I have two slices of toast,

Slathered in butter,

Each piece with smashed avocado.

Atop my toast there is bacon,

Two strips trimmed but still greasy.

Lastly there are twin eggs, fried

But still gooey inside.

In anticipation, my stomach roars like thunder.

Bite after bite the beast inside of me calms

As I wipe the final dregs from my plate,

The beast within licks its lips,

Satisfied…

But only for a moment.

As the taste on my lips dissipates,

The beast arises once more.

Only minutes after eating

My mind becomes fuzzy

and the only thing that I can focus on

is what lies beyond the refrigerator door.

Five pieces of red licorice.

A portion of leftover shepherd’s pie.

Chocolate cake drizzled with cream.

Half a sweet, yellow pineapple

And a cup of sliced peaches.

Every morsel of food that passes through my lips

Keeps the beast at bay.

Sometimes the beast will linger,

Urging me to eat

To fuel it and keep it silenced.

Sometimes it stays for hours,

Sometimes it stays for days.

Every bite of food fills me with pain.

I don’t want to be this way.

The beast within me lives on

Making me its slave.

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