For Marya

Nothing can compare to the erotic burn, the rush of fire in blood,
From carving your initials into your tender thigh with your house keys.
Say please
And I will show you darkness beyond your wildest dreams.
Frightening, and so disturbing,
So much better than any horror film
Is the black cabaret that is my life.
I will give you my nightmares, for your entertainment and delight,
I have no light
Left to offer strangers.

That is all gone,
All starved away,
And now its memory only resides in the occasional growl of my stomach,
And the way the hunger turns over and lustfully claws the inside of my belly,
Begging for food, crying out for attention,
Like a stray animal in the street.
But to compete with my insatiable appetite for starvation is to fight a losing battle.
And soon the creature rolls over,
And goes back to sleep.

Because on the rare occasion when it does triumph, when it is set free for a hour or so,
To stretch its wings as I stretch my hands and steal as much food as I can fit into the pockets of my jeans,
It knows,
That even once the manna has been swallowed,
It is not safe,
That the soul in all its fury will march the body straight into the toilet
And will the food back up again.