The Feeding
By Emily Carney
I am tired of people
combing their hair
and dripping in gold.
Too much lacking the raw
of a natural fondness, and
I’m bloated with a craving;
pack
afewthings.
Three times I’ve loved ya.
I am tired of wanting you.
Of dressing myself.
Of putting myself forth
at every spoonful of
cereal
or artificial glory.
I am rabid with a consciousness,
teeming with an illness
coagulated with thought,
BUYing your art
magazines
your red pants
your new soles.
Porn is free!
Did you know that?
Porn is free.

Untitled, 2014 by Esme Blegvad
Copyright Credit: NOTE: This poem is part of “Pethetic Little Thing,” curated by Tavi Gevinson. Read the rest of the portfolio in Poetry’s July/August 2015 issue.
Source: Poetry (July/August 2015)