I’m so hungry
But there’s never anything nourishing to chew on around here
I need to clean out the pantry of my mouldy old thoughts
So many canned concepts
Stacked high up on my shelves
They’ve been there for years
Collecting as much dust as they do momentum in my head
But I keep acquiring new recipes
As I flick through colourful cookbooks
Buying fresh ingredients from the supermarket of life
In the hope that maybe I’ll develop my palate
For some fresh edible perspective
Only to find myself
Unsatisfied with any new concoction
Afraid to even taste it
And so I keep reverting back to the pantry of old thought patterns
A sky-high supply of bottled rumination
Fermenting in the familiarity of my past traumas with all the triggers and trimmings
Preserved with the fear of an unknown future
I keep munching on jars of pickled dread
Back inside the pantry of old thought patterns
There’s never anything nourishing to chew on around here
Just a large tray of regret
That sits proudly next to an air-tight bag of painful memories
With a packet of shame-filled secrets strategically hidden behind them
Where no one can see
Which I snack on late at night
When the world has gone to sleep
But I never sleep
I get no relief
I have so much to stew over
More blame to chew over
I keep defrosting frozen dreams
Then throwing them back in the cold steel freezer that used to be warm hope
An ice-cream container of pleasure sits melting in the corner
Beckoning to be consumed
But I have no appetite for the temporary
Lost all cravings for the sensory
Not interested in momentary
Sugar highs
Washed down with cups of carbonated lies
I would much rather starve and die
I’m hungry for something rich
Something filling
Something nutritious
Something that feeds my spirit and my soul
Something to satisfy me once and for all
If only I could get near it
And when I do, not fear it
Something raw and organic to bite into
Perfect
Crisp
Fruit
Hanging ripe
From the Tree of Life
No cooking required
Or boiling
Or frying
Or steaming
Or braising
Just a constant grazing
On that which is whole and pure
This is the only cure
To a hunger as insatiable as mine
And this I will not find
Back inside the pantry of my old thought patterns
There is never anything nourishing to chew on around here
© Sahar's Mad World