Fifteen steps across the kitchen tiles   Slowly if the floor is creaking   Moving swiftly, opening the door   Air conditioner’s leaking.   Voices calls out from the dark bedroom:   “Why aren’t you sleeping?”   The sound of pans and the voice shouts again,   It says, “You shouldn’t be eating!”      Countless days and merciless nights   Weigh down on a weakling.   Molding and sculpting a piece   Of art for daily sneaking.   “Hold your breath and close your eyes tight,”   He says, “And no more peaking!”   A cultivated, scar from left to right,   “Keep on, keep on weaping!      “Because it tastes so good   To feel your flesh so close   And to haunt you in your clothes   To know you’re shaking.   And it is so right   To have me underneath your nails   Putting sandbars into pails   While you’re waking.”      Opening a broken closet door   And gazing at the picture   A time machine of physical restraint   Beneath a dimming light fixture.   A couple years and a personal touch   Cause a deadly mixture.   A fraying rope a couple of sins   Will forever fix her.      “Because it tastes so good   To feel your flesh so close   And to spook you in your clothes   To know you’re waiting   And it is life   To try and fly   With clipped wings; to bruise and cry   A steady stream of fading.