Anor Ain't Amicabul
Sickly Annie is so anorexic,
it’s a heartbreaking story
of bulimic misery
Looking in her madhouse distorted mirror —
only a frail, starving image
does Annie see
Always taunted by a silent, bulimia bully,
sticking her tongue out
at Annie hungrily
Lusty appetite of ravenous desires
require a steely mouth chastity
Oh, such feeding paranoia!
Two pence suspense dreadful
Another penny thought tossed:
Annie is bellyaching for more,
but her Ziploc lips
always close the refrigerator door
to the pantry store
She can’t ignore
those unfriendly twin persuasions —
crummy yummy tummy agitations
Oh, such tragic operatic lamentations:
Culinary over-indulgent temptations
of phantom necessary dietary limitations
Secret anorexic desires ...
watching and wanting
bulimic dreamy results
Annie can’t stomach the sight
of food anymore
Annie love the gastric plight
of basking in food galore
Dueling mentally malleable wills
of delight and fright:
those thoughts Anor ain’t amicabul
So, Annie vomits out the pain
buried deep in her core ... once more
After another caloric intake body invasion,
such upchuck, casting out relief ...
albeit snatch brief,
brings regurgitated throat bowel victory
Then returns the nightly
of gorge —
the tasty, daily irresistible lure
Fighting a losing battle ...
sadly, Annie still ain’t quite sure
which waist side will win in the end
Fat or thin?
Freddie Robinson Jr.