I Don't Hate My Body, I Just Hate Food. Poem by E Snead

My hair overgrown, fingernails cut too close. Knees bruised
from hurling my meals into the toilet.

Pound going down and
time spent eating
going up.

I don't hate my body,
I truly don't.

I just hate food.
Everything. About. Food.

The tastes,
The textures,
The smells,
The experience.

Sitting down for a meal that smells of putrid fish,
mushy, yet
hard
potatoes,
and
peas.
Peas which are
never
cooked right.

I just wish I could take a pill that fills my stomach up.
but no.

I keep fighting.
ARFID,
you
CAN'T
get the best of me.