the entire afternoon was spent

deciding

I can’t tell if i slept

or if i just 

talked myself

through the silence

with my eyes closed

Spiritual Bulemic

my eyes are swelling with 

cartographic smears of

mental augmentation

ive absorbed the recollected guru

from his stoop

and through forking

his wry and wrung 

flesh

I count the lessons

and appendages

descent 

down to the bathroom

where I’m 

patted and dried

with a finger inside

my enlightenment uvula 

i spew out my spiritual dose 

of the day

a rumi

a camus

I’m keeling over in 

a porcelained pain 

degraded by the guru 

 his one bedroom apartment’s 

bathroom

Im urged into seeping 

mushy Bhagvad Gita 

he’s 

diluted 

all my eatings 

he’s

diluted

all my needings

dependant on a cathartic diet 

my eyes are bigger than my stomach

my mind is smaller than my soul

Im a spiritual bulimic 

hi.

and I’ve been straight for three years.