Child-Lock Hunger in Laxative Bottles by Aly Bishop
I draw smoke from stolen cigarettes
Hunger tugs me backwards by the hair
Until my neck angles ninety degrees
Ladder bones clinking like porcelain coffee cups
I cake my lungs in soot
As polluted breaths dripping sand inhale
Ripping my teeth with friction
The air hiccups into my lungs as
Urges for consumption
Stop hitting like fireplace bellows
Replaced by knotted, artery clogged euphoria.
I can run on fumes longer than you think
Exhaust pumping into my lungs until they cramp
Pushed to the seams, the stitches stretch tight
My chest expands as the rest of my body deflates.
I’m finally doing something right
I crave the smog
Not for the high of the heat
But for the stocky soup feeling hunger holds.
I’ve never done hard drugs but
The enticement is similar and lists the benefits
My insides wither and outsides crumple.
The side effects are simple:
Brittle nails crack in the beds
Skin flakes from lips
A crown of curls covers the pillowcase
It is an abuse of control
Manifesting in a scarcity of swallows.
Aly Bishop is a seventeen year old writer hailing from Los Angeles, CA. She works to represent and advocate for transgender individuals, those struggling with mental health issues, and victims of domestic abuse. She works to be easily accessible and can be found at her Instagram @alyvbishop and seen in other places such as the Poetry Society of America, the Faulkner Wisdom Competition, The Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, and the zine Trash Mag.
