I read once that if you want to expel a tapeworm,
you can starve yourself for a few days, then hold your face
over a pot of simmering buttermilk.
Sometimes I sit and stare at this blinking cursor,
because I feel like there must be something inside of me,
feeding. I want to feel it slither.
Up, and out.
I want to be unimpressed at the sight of it,
writhing, dying under the electric light.
I want to be overwhelmed by the ordinariness,
of the things that I consume and that consume me.
I want to be well.
