Poem, No. 2: I bleed out my mouth when I’m hungry

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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