Potential Last Words
If I don't post anything in the next few days or weeks, I am dead . Simple as. Hopefully that is not the case, but it's a hard call to make .
I am writing this on the bathroom floor at 3.37am.
This is less of a poem, more a collection of thoughts one goes through between the vomiting, passing out, and intense hot flashes that come with ketones.
It’s funny to think that my body is quite literally trying to kill itself.
Well, it’ll be funnier if I survive it. You google ketones, the first thing every site states is that it’s life threatening.
For me it’s a staple in life.
What’s life without illness?
Fuck I wish I knew.
Another wave of unease passing through my body as I type this, why am I typing this?
I feel this much stronger than I’ve felt this same pain before.
Why.. it’s because I’ve done it to myself and everyone knows it.
My mother, holding back my hair as I cough, I splutter, I cry
“I’m sorry” I gasp before my head is bowed again,
the fruity taste of bile,
filled with flesh eating chemicals enters my mouth yet again.
I’m in shock, still.
What does one do when they come this close to death in the early morning of a random Tuesday?
They write, I suppose.
I write.
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