talking body

it’ll go to waste or it’ll go to waist

i know my body isn’t a trash can 

but i can’t turn a blind eye to

those that dig through receptacles

to have what i take for granted

i know that empty hands and mouths before me

would kill for what is so easily available to me

i’m constantly at war with my body. 

what fuels my basal metabolic functions also

fuels the voice that tells me i’m weak

every time i reach across the table 

emotional eating is bad

but why can’t it be good

the flavors transporting me to my childhood dining table

the smells and tastes reminding me of good days and good people

when did anxiety become an ingredient in birthday cake

when did guilt become an aftertaste of decadence

do i eat so i can run 

or climb

or dance

or do i run so i can eat

do i climb to eat

do i dance to eat

i’m constantly at war with screens and mirrors

the screens that show me 

better bodies

happier bodies

sexier bodies

and the mirror that shows me

cellulite

stretch marks

too much fat in this area and 

not enough in this area

is my body a temple or a prison