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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
eating disorder
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 ... 
wantonly 
watching and wanting 
weighty 
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
pleasure sensation 
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?



Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr.

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