Poem, No. 2: I bleed out my mouth when I’m hungry
In a second poem, our EIC examines hitting rock bottom and accepting a grim fate.
Welcome to Poetry, a series highlighting my own work as an amateur poet. All poems and other pieces were originally published on my Patreon page.
Last summer, I found myself nearly homeless and went to a local food bank for the first time. Working in this industry, you find that people use you and toss you aside when they no longer can squeeze you dry. I had just been rejected by several various projects, on which I greatly depended. I wrote this soon after ⏤ feeling humiliated and degrade and worthless. Here it is:
“I bleed out my mouth when I’m hungry”
I bleed out my mouth when I’m hungry.
‘You just want to die.’
I seethe and sputter in revulsion.
Spit clots the back of my throat, flapping as Saturday morning wash. Sunken, scaly slabs of skin slide from my chin.
Wagging.
I scrape my shoes against the brittle concrete. The line moves anxiously slow, and a heavy decay settles amongst us.
The vagrants gagging on stale nothingness and grass.
The air is unnecessarily sticky with mid-day heat; the summer so ravenous and relentless.
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Hunger eats me alive, and I feed on the carcass.
‘For what it’s worth…’ reads the now crumpled note, lying dormant and afraid. The words pinch me as silver needles into
addict veins.
And I nearly choke on my own vomit.
‘Thank you,’ rings my ears.
The clerk has kind eyes. They unnerve me. She checks my name off a list, and I shuffle my grimy hands nervously from my pockets.
I take the brown paper parcel packed with canned goods and discount meats and cheeses. I nod.
I take a quick peek inside. The stench of my rotten corpse flicks my nostrils.
‘That’ll do the trick.’
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