i can not eat.
i am not hungry.
for the space in my stomach has been occupied by baking soda and vinegar.
a violent turmoil, with a wretched odor.
it is inside of me, no stopping the reaction.
it has already begun.
i can purge all traces of this turmoil, but it will still exist.
i will always remember it.
a little less everyday.
as that memory will be overcome with new, more turbulent ones.
love might be a battlefield...
but life is a minefield, as dense as the cosmos.
each step you take, changes you a little more.
you will be harmed.
you will be injured.
you will be scarred.
you will remember.
but also, minefields aren't completely covered.
there are little pockets of hope.
some are untouched, some are craters of someone else's mistakes.
we learn to use those things that are pure, and those that are mistaken.
that is how we survive this wasteland.
