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Bending over the porcelain bowl
Retching, gagging
The sound of my rebelling body echoing from the walls as I
Stick my fingers down my throat
Lettuce floating in blood (flaming hots and subway)
The fucking bread refuses to come up
Those fingers, caressing the back of my throat like a lover, turn
Harsh, probing
Footsteps
Do they notice the feet facing the wrong way?
Wiping those cruel fingers with white toilet paper
Red stains and spit
I hate you
For interrupting me, you cunt

I own the bathroom of vomit and blood
These stained floors, these stalls, these stone walls are mine
Mine