The White Porcelain Throne

November 14, 2008
She eats an exotic meal of rich meaty carbs, fat. But she doesn’t worry. The white porcelain throne awaits her.
She thrusts herself onto it. Jabbing her finger down her throat, she regurgitates. Out her mouth pours the contents of her meal. She is satisfied with herself; she no longer bares the fat in the pit of her stomach.
Her head rounds. Mouth fills with water. Ear, a handle. As she watches her friend empty her soul, day after day, into her. Flush! Both are left with nothing but the remains of emptiness.

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