Every morning I rise
And brew a cup of coffee.
The beans are freshly ground,
Bubbling on the stove,
I plan each and every task.
Proud of the collection
That I have curated
Of beans from near and far.
But as I take a sip,

My heart begins to race,
My stomach rumbling with hunger
But I cannot give in.

A sense of dread creeps in,
That I may lose this carefully crafted world
I've been living in.
I strive for perfection in all that I do,
Staring into the cup,
Bile rising in my throat,
As I struggle to resist
The hunger that consumes me,
A never-ending, gnawing abyss.
I reach for a blue pack,
And inhale the smoke,
A quick fix to soothe my nerves
In order to hold on,
To the illusion of control.
The coffee does its work,
My mind awakens,
But my body remains weak,
Trapped in a vicious cycle
Of sacrifice and self denial.
Yet I yearn for a time
When I can enjoy my morning brew,
Savor a sweet treat,
Without the feeling of defeat.
But until then,
I'll cling to the obsession
That has taken over my mind,
In hopes of breaking free
From this obsession that eats away at me.