To Hunger By pinkgiraffe I want to thank you for never deserting me. Even when I despised you, thinking that if you only went then so would all my misery: I’d meet my own standards of thin and everyone knows that skeletons don’t have problems. You were always there for me. Tirelessly guiding me towards the fridge against my wishes. My will was weak; it failed to kill me. You kept me alive. Now you disturb me from writing, gently pulling me back to the realm of the physical. That small familiar pang in the belly like a call from an old friend, inviting me to lunch.