The sight and smell of food evoke a nausea in me kin to that of a greenhorn seaman.
I drunkenly sway and stumble my way through my day.
In and out of sleep.
My body is sick.
Days turn into weeks. I watch the food enter me and then feel it leave me.
Void of the nutrients that keep my vibrant, I lose my luster.
My body is fighting.
Slowly I regain ground as color returns to my face.
The greyness melts from my eyes as the blue begins to seep through.
My dry mouth finds moisture as my stomach remembers hunger.
My body is healing.
Very glad the poetry is back! I can definitely relate to feeling this way about food every now and again here.
Thanks for reading! It has definitely been a poetic few weeks. Sometimes some words or phrases inspire me. It also helps that I found some old stuff in my journal.