starving soul

an empty glass

an expectation

a goal.

to fill the glass

so i can look a certain way

i pour out my soul

and do what i can

to reach the brim

but with every sacrifice i make,

and every drop i place,

the glass grows deeper

so i skip some more meals

and run until i can hardly breathe

just so i can get there

but it’s still not enough

and the glass continues to grow

so i throw my whole life away

and empty every part of my being

just to provide enough water

to reach the top

and i don’t stop.

i can’t stop.

even when my stare turns dizzy

and my cheeks start to hollow

and my hair falls out, first strands, then clumps

but it’s not enough.

even though chills cover my body even when it’s hot

and my meals consist of cardboard rice cakes and diet coke

and my mind is going blank

and every ounce of myself is circling the drain,

i don’t stop

because the glass never stops wanting.

needing.

begging.

for more

overflowing but never full

a bottomless pit

an itch in my brain

that’s never satisfied

please,

won’t you have mercy

on my starving soul?