From my brain, to the website

I thought it was me

The girl on the bed alone

I thought my sticky, dirty hands

were my insides re-generating

Within soup

That, sighed with acceptance,

as unworthy, declared me home

I think I dreamed, one day, of more

substance

Chunks of bread, in a world that felt

so flat

But, outwardly, I pushed myself to

see the sun

The croutons, the highlights

Systems, in cisterns, of assumption

Could never give you credit for that

I wondered why my me was

the one that wasn’t out there

But, just lived inside

Flushed with a mixture of textures, liquids

and space invaders

Who did what it takes to survive