They say food is good for the soul
But if there’s an emptiness inside what does it fill?
The bloatedness is a welcome feeling, just to feel something at all:
The spiciness coating the mouth rather than the dry anxious taste,
The sweetness exciting the brain into action.
Maybe I could wash it down with some booze,
Letting the drink cover my personality.
Everyone prefers to watch someone go to excess,
I’d rather be laughed at than understood.
The pictures and stories shared online show the plates and piles of excess
But the consequences of gorging are never showed in their entirety
The rolls and marks on me show the attempts of patching myself up
My secret plates and piles I would never be able to share
Perhaps the others dont eat to fill the hole like I do
Or the spiciness and the sweetness don’t coat and excite
Perhaps it’s already filled to the brim with what I’ve been left without
Or perhaps they too prefer to not show it at all