Gnaw

Four AM, the ceiling a sheet

of dim gray, and my stomach tight,

a knot, a fist, a quiet beat

of something wrong, deep in the night.

Not just an empty hole, but a scrape

of bone on bone, a primal ache

that makes my teeth hurt, no escape

from the dull, persistent, steady break

of quiet in my gut. A growl,

like something trapped, a hungry howl

without a sound. My thoughts too clear,

too sharp, too thin, too full of fear

that everything feels brittle, light.

I just forgot to eat all day and now it's night.