A Setting. Poem by Christina Simmons

A situation I find bitingly hurtful
It gets me in the guts the canal of the belly
It's a disembowel churning feeling going round and round
Sometimes it seems permanent
I feel the pain rising to the surface

I'm Searching reaching for comforts
To keep it enclose
I feel compel to keep it buried
Piling all sorts

Special treats!
Chocolate creams!
Lots of sugary stuff, food!
Only to feel dull and frumpish!

Cigarettes! Alcohol! Drugs!
Stimulants that's no longer needed
Punishing the self yet again

The more I have more I want
Contentment I can't seem to have
Hoping to bargain with this pain

This gut yearning anguish
Some kind of desire
Throwing me into hysteria

Like a sharp knife
Wounding me to pieces
In the solar plexus...
Down to the red-hot base

Becoming a threat to my psyche
An emotional pain
Elevating lifting from within

Obtaining wringing me
Making me feel cleanse again
Casting freeing me whilst gradually
Gravitating from inside


A tiny teeny fraction
A firmly fixed grip
Sealing it self to the tummy
Like shackles warping like a griddle
Gripping me with grotesque thoughts

Unrealistically imagining friends
Companionship
Access pounds I'd like to shed

Extra weight now soil
Release me from manacles
For esteemed instead of indulging
In too much delicacies.