Swallowing words

She sat and she ate

with the wildness of a wolf unfed for days,

being thrust by emotion,

not by hunger.

“There is tension and anger”.

The words she usually doesn’t say

are slipping more easily by over-eating.

Otherwise, they will resolutely be thrown

to the face of somebody.

“There is a behavioral pattern here”.

It seemed as if all the things around

were criticizing her;

the fridge, the chairs, the table, the curtains.

The more the self-accusation, the more the guilt projected.

“There is condemning. There is guilt. Both created by you”.

After filling her stomach

with all the no’s and the “I can’t stand this anymore”

she swallowed among food,

she frantically smoked a cigarette.

“There is frantic behavior here”.

She caught a flash of awareness

as she was dragging herself to bed;

this time, words weren’t slipping so easily,

as if her esophagus was sending her a denial message.

“There is decreasing of the satisfaction from this behavioral pattern”.

She thought for twenty-four seconds that all these things

compressed underneath every day for years,

will explosively be driven out like molten lava,

burning the illusory part of the life she has built.

“There is fear”.

She isn’t ready to handle the consequences yet.

So, she doesn’t take the dare, but she will.

The widening of her perception has begun.

Her inner observer has started to be heard,

and it’s up to her to use “his” objective descriptions.

***

Anthi Psomiadou — CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 International : Credit must be given to the creator/ Only noncommercial uses of the work are permitted/ No derivatives