I wish you'd listen

Hunger

It feels like I am committing a crime.

Like robbery, felony or larceny

I smuggle it in quietly and listen for sounds

Of footsteps or voices.

My tread is light for someone as heavy as I am,

My eyes furtively look around

As if I am a fugitive, on the run from the law.

It doesn't matter if I'm hungry or not

I just need it.

I smuggle it in and feast.

But it's all temporary.

After that it's a two-way street:

Either the hunger returns or the shame does.

In both cases it leads me to eat.

Sometimes I hoard

I stash away my loot in secret places

Hiding them lovingly until I return

And then fret it will be found

If I'm not around to guard and guide people away,

So they will not find my precious stash

Also known as my greatest shame.

They call my need many names

Like Bulimia and binge-eating,

But they just can't make it go away.

They watch me like hawks,

They check my things

They say It's for my own good, but I can't help feeling violated,

Like a common criminal stripped of their rights

And under inspection.

But that's an inaccurate analogy...right?

I wonder if this is how a thief feels?

A craving for more followed by crashing guilt and regret.

The hunger for more continuously gnawing a hole in my stomach,

That I desperately need to fill.