I weakly struggle against the urge. Screaming at me to run into the bathroom toward the porcelain bowl. I'm torn between the feelings I know I will feel once the deed was done. I would feel relief that the badness inside of me will be purged out of my body; tipping the scales back to good. The beast would be content with the balance and it would rest until it is once again provoked.
However, I would feel guilty and disappointed at the loss of control that drove me to my knees with my head stuck in the toilet bowl retching as repentance. I can feel my stomach swirling with the dirty feelings of anxiety, regret, and disgust.I can't resist the urge any longer.
I run to the my sanctuary and prepare myself for the act. Guzzling gallons of water until my stomach aches and I can feel the badness crawling up my throat. Quickly falling to my knees in front of the toilet I let all my thoughts and worries flush out of my mind with my weakness spewing out of my mouth into their rightful place. I keep retching until my body ran out of energy to do so on its own. During this brief respite, I shove my fingers down my throat in short stabbing motions and keep them in place once I feel the first contraction of my stomach. The purge continues. After I am done worshipping the porcelain bowl I am consumed with mixed feelings clashing within my empty stomach. The relief is overwhelming until I look in the mirror and remember that the purge wouldn't have been necessary if I only had more self control. I loathe myself so deeply when that thought comes to frutation in the forefront of my mind; taunting my efforts relentlessly. Ultimately, I come out of the bathroom with my shoulders slumped, dejected and defeated.
YOU ARE READING
Undone
PoetryA hodgepodge of topics that mostly deal with mental health written as poems or prose.