Soul Food This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

January 17, 2010
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You do not feed your soul.
Where there used to be
the warmth of toast
and butter and jam,
frozen yogurt,
in your belly,
The stain of a cigar
on your
there is now,
A pit of empty cold,
clean sterile flesh
under pale skin,
A haunted face.
Those things that you
used to spew
and create through mouth
and keys
and ink?
What words?
You've shed them
like a coat.
You prefer to be nude,
snotty girl.
Everyone! Come gather round
and look at me
and watch me
weddle away! Waste

Get so frail,
that I no longer need wings to fly.
A gust of wind
is all

it takes to
knock me
off my feet,
send me soaring



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