I do not know.
There is acid.
There is gas.
You cannot eat things.
You cannot eat a lot of things.
You can eat ICE CREAM.
Your mood is good good good you’re not manic at all.
You talk to your animal cousins and to yourself and to the air you are of good cheerful hearty lovely something; yellow blue fescue high summer flat belly.
You are thinner. Then thinner. You shrink into a large shirt.
You have not been writing but can feel the writing apparatus in your chest fingers skin head mouth ramping up there will be words within a week.
You wrote an academic paper as a model for your students, the first time in years what a blast how glad to know it still works.
You cannot cook chicken.
Dale does not like your creamed potatoes.
You wonder if he is correct in his dislike.
You have not told him this.
Showing knees and some thigh in EFM last night.
Love church glorious church the bright hot Jesus dance of church my family.
You would love coffee if only.
Beans beans my kingdom for a bag of beans!
You thank the dog gods for Spinach. Eggs. White Bread. Butter. Milk. Pudding. Grits. Cream of Wheat. Ice Cream Sandwiches. Bananas. Applesauce. Noodles. Prune Juice.
You ask the lesser gods, who have always been starving, for food without payback.
You wonder the vicious fury of the bowel.
You realize that digestion is everything. Perhaps a lost foot to be lame with happy bowels a throat that does not rebel when you pray you ask God if he cares about you.
God, do you care about me?
You realize you are asking God if he believes in you.