Emotional Bulimia

Have you ever realised that everything you miss is not all that special or good to begin with? Vomiting away my days, it feels like bulimia. You say you need your own way, like drug-fuelled paranoia. I take advantage of myself; I’m wasting time and what is mine. You know how to pick the best times to hand deliver the worst lines. And now that you’re begging, words and lies you don’t mean, I know this isn’t real; you’re faking that you’re keen. So I guess it’s fine I puke all good sentiment away. I guess it’s appropriate you’ve entrapped your mind away. I can do all that I’ve dreamed of; my sharpened heel is on your throat. It was my choice to play your game. But as for you? I hope you choke.