bold faced lies, like bread, are filling

bold faced lies, like bread

are filling

my mind and my stomach

expanding and conquring

distorting my reality

my hunger

and my ability to reason

i like the idea of being in love

but love actually tastes like rye

bitter and sharp

unsetteling

swallowing bread

fills me

but it dosent satisfy

if fills empty spaces

expanding itself

but not actually creating more

this illusion of satisfaction is like the idea of being in love

both filling, yet neither will actually satisfy