My fingers travel farther and deeper down my throat.
I feel nausea rising up inside my body and I prepare for the familiar burning sensation.
I quickly rip my fingers out of my mouth.
Afterwards, I look into the toilet and say,
"It's not enough."
I prepare myself again.
My body refuses to let any more go.
I get up and scrub my hands with soap.
I brush and brush and brush and spit.
The evidence is gone.
I am finally clean.
All is good again.
YOU ARE READING
live out loud
Poetrya collection of the thoughts that i have that are hard to share 2019 update: basically a book that i update whenever i feel like a worthless human being
