Slither up to the cold white bowl of control.

In the bathroom at Old Chicago

In the mall

In Chile's

After burgers and fries

Pizza

Malts

Chipotle

Expensive meals at Bennihana

After any meal, any time I felt alone.

It's gluttony. A sin. I'm going down, you know.

In the city

In the suburbs

In the parking lot of Walgreens, sobbing. Heaving. Coy smiles and furrowed brows.  


Too many calories and then too few.

"I'll be right back."

"I don't feel very well."

In the woods in the dark when I can't do it at home. Texting him with one hand, another snakes down my throat as the wind cackles at my weakness.

Sometimes with her, mostly alone. I loved it alone. I had mastered my volume. Almost silent now. Just a tickling and it willingly made its Oscar-worthy exit. Right after the last bite. It was easiest that way. Never wait more than three hours.

I'm down another 6 pounds. It's all that really matters.

I just want everyone to want me fully dressed.

But I'll never let them see my scars underneath my hipster-wannabe fashions.

The truth of bipolar heavyheartedness and laundry basket burdens and cradles full of neglected children. Of beatings with fists on backs of suffocating girls who cannot fight back...

Of mormons who projected their sickness into aching pelvises and mouths.

Silenced for good.

Rushing to the toilet, get it out get it out get it out.