Shalom

Alone
In the silence
I count.
The evil I consumed
Burning in repentance.
Counting,
The numbers,
Always the numbers.

Through the fog
The haze
That represses all logic
It seeps through.
Unwanted.
Slipping like fat
Past my barricades
My walls
Of bone
Of strength
Of perfection.

I am forced to remember.

More of a argument
Than a conversation.
She would be right,
she usually is.
But I so desperately
Wanted to be right,
needed to be right,
this once.
The topic at hand
I thought I conquered
Long ago.

Shalom.

Inner peace?
Is that like inner beauty?
For the fat and ugly.
Those without control
Resort to the “inner”

Shalom

I dismiss the thought.
It is not for me.

I return to my counting.

I quickly learn
That one cannot dismiss a
Ghost
Haunting me
That elusive whisper,
If one can whisper with conviction.

I am better.
I am stronger.
I can be healthy.
I can stop
Counting.

Worse so,

I deserve better.
I deserve to be stronger.
I deserve to be healthy.
I deserve to stop
Counting.

Driving me to madness
That whisper.

Shalom.

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