Skin.
Skin by definition is a thin layer of tissue forming a natural outer covering of the body.
Skin is for people to tan, to clothe, apply make up to... to touch.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

Mosquito bites.
Mosquito bites by definition are the itchy bumps that appear after mosquitoes use their proboscis to puncture your skin and feed on your blood.
Mosquito bites are for people to feel, to itch, to bleed, to scab and repeat. The entire cycle.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

Summer.
Summer by definition is the warmest season of the year.
Summer is for t-shirts, shorts, exposure, swimming, tanning, skin, skin, skin, skin, skin.
"It's Summer, put on some shorts."
"It's Summer, why aren't you wearing a t-shirt?"
"It's Summer, let's go swimming!"
Summer is a time for these questions, these statements, these words to fester, to breed like muosquitos, to sting like the bite of a bug.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

Dermatologist.
A Dermatologist by definition is a doctor that treats diseases, in the widest sense, and some cosmetic problems of the skin, skin, skin, skin, skin.
The Dermatologist tells me to use this and to use that. Lotions and potions, as my mother would say. Slather, rub, treat, swallow.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

Skin care.
Skin care by definition is the range of practices that support skin integrity, enhance its appearance and relieve skin conditions.
Get up, shower, sterilizing soap, body oil, steroid cream, medicated lotion, drink water and repeat the process before bed. My daily cycle.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

Seesaw.
A Seesaw by definition is to change rapidly and repeatedly from one position, situation, or condition to another and back again.
Seesaw, to push off the ground, into the air with a sense of victory and joy, only to fall hard to the ground with stinging ankles and sore calf's.
This isn't a playground anymore.
The Dermatologist says that if I don't get better, they'll have to put me on the pill.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.

The Pill.
The Pill is an oral treatment for my condition. My eczema.
One pill every morning at seven AM with food and an entire glass of water.
The risk associated with the pill- Osteoporosis,  Muscle weakness, Mood and Behavioral changes, Increase in chance of developing cataracts,  Stomach Ulcers and Liver Failure.
One pill every morning at seven AM with food and an entire glass of water. The daily cycle.

Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab, repeat.
Itch, bleed, scab.... **** it.

I would rather my liver fail and my bones go brittle then to be stared at on the street!
"What is that?"
"Are you okay?"
"What's wrong with her?"
"Is it contagious?"
"Don't touch me!"
I itch, my nails dragging over my scarred skin and pulling at wounds. I bleed, the welts that crack and leak drops from the red river that flows silently beneath my skin. I scab, leaving horrible lumps of ugly, hardened flesh to coat the once smooth area. I repeat....

Well, I don't want to repeat! I want to be able wear the clothes I want, to walk the streets with out the judging and questioning eyes of the passersby on me, to be held and touched by a significant other without the fear that their fingers will fall upon my skin and recoil in disgust!

Without looking in the mirror and wondering when I can finally begin to love myself.

I decided that today is the day! No more Itching! No more Bleeding! No more Scabs! It's time to break this ******* cycle.

Rexie was his name,
I met him on my tumblr page.
He's similar to Ana,
but different in a mental way.
I never worried 'bout my weight,
but still he got ahold of me.
He whispered to me "start counting your calories."
I'd eat less and less,
I loved the feeling that came with it.
I googled 'side effects of starving yourself.'
Euphoria.
That's what came up,
I ignored hair loss, osteoporosis, death.
It's like a drug, that's what he said,
Thats how the addiction began.
Always tired,
Brain rewired,
Kilos dropping,
There's no stopping.
Now the vision of the scale plummeting makes me feel something.
Rexie's always gonna be with me,
Maybe soon I'll realise
His goal is to ****** me.
Until then,
I can say,
Rexie is my best friend.

-T

"Bulimia nervosa, an eating disorder that involves bingeing on food followed by purging, can cause gum disease, osteoporosis, kidney disease, heart disease, and death. Bulimia affects mostly women and teens." - WebMD.com*

My eyes blurred as I wiped away the remaining evidence from my mouth.
I cried.

It seems that bulimia had taken over my life these past couple of months.
Even my hands shake now.
For some reason, I didn't seem to care that I could give myself cancer with this, that I could die from this.

My headaches have gotten worse, my depression even more intense.
And my poor, sweet mother, willing to believe that I am sick and NOT doing this to myself.

Could I really do this to her?
She now has the duty to care for several children that are not hers because she cares too much.
She tries, but she no longer listens to her own children.

My mother is broken.
Revealing this to her will only break her more.

So I'll keep quiet.
Purging and ridding myself of my shame and self respect.
What could possibly be worse?

There is a
Hairline fracture
In the structure of my being

My life is but a collection of moments
Spent waiting for myself
To
c
       r
  u
              m
       b
              l
                  ­ e . . .

Not knowing, ignorance, is a funny thing.
I use to see my past as either a treasure chest or a time bomb, I was never entirely sure which.
I use to see my past as a catalyst to some grand adventure, but I could only guess at how long it would last.
That's how it goes, everyone only guessing when their adventure ends. Some people know how, but no one knows exactly when.
For me though, there was more, A larger question mark, more X's in my equation. I knew less, and it always had me imagining.
You see I was adopted at birth, I never knew my life givers, my body makers, my me creators. I only knew they existed. That and the scraps of information gathered throughout years of questions like needles picked slowly and painfully while searching through the hay.
She played the flute, just like you.
He looked (to her at least) like Wayne Gretzky.
They were never married.
This was the story but it wasn't my treasure, it wasn't wasn't my bomb.
You see I have no idea what to expect at the end of the story, the place where I would meet them, my DNA combiners.
At the X on this treasure map would there be gold? Would I find a count-down on a bomb amidst my riches? Would there be, among the glittering joy, a hint at when this grand adventure would end?
Most importantly,
Did I want to know?
Curiosity has always burned in me like a forest fire raging far beyond my self control.
I wanted to know.
Would I find in the story of my life's creation more family to love, more people who matter?
Or not?
And if there was a bomb what would it be?
Cancer,
Heart-disease,
Osteoporosis,
Alzheimer's?

Do I want to know?
Do I want to see an expiry date on my young life?

This knowing is a gamble,
These dice cannot be loaded,
These cards cannot be cheated.

That is my choice, to live out an adventure short or long, and discover their story.

Discover my story.

Ignorance is a funny thing.

I reach deep inside of myself
hoping to pull something out.
Tickling, teasing,
A game I like to play.
I know the risks:
Dehydration, fatigue, tooth decay, osteoporosis, anemia, hypotension, arrhythmia, cardiac arrest, death.

I roll the dice, because in this moment
I know I’d rather die than keep the Poison inside.

So, I dig, deep, into the dark,
Until I hit it: X marks the spot.
Tease it out. Force it out.
The treasure spills from the core of me.
I win.

I am emptied over and over and over again,
Until there is nothing left of the Poison and nothing left of me.

Twirling in the living room
Of my childhood house
Fast.. faster

Suddenly I stop

But the Earth
never stopped rotating

I left my wrist watch
At home today

I don't need to be reminded
By the passage of time

My bones are osteoportic
And so are the walls of my life

Its only a matter of time
Before they start breaking

And I really
Really
Need a break

The nightmares are back.

I count the time to their deaths.
Women live longer than men,
on average. Mum has osteoporosis.
When I was 6, I gave myself 40 years.
That's how I planned never to miss
them. Children need parents, I reasoned.
We had a close family of 3. Gave up
the rest, like old clothes. Good people
shouldn't keep more than they need.
Then my sister happened- just that
wish for her changed matters. Then
the math became too hard. How much
time does anyone want? How long
to buy me a house with big windows?
The ground doesn't open to take you,
you know? The heart doesn't know when
to stop. Hands- that's what makes an end.
Hands and a cut-throat mind.

I had nightmares.
Big Ben
counting
down.
The terror of screaming out,
with no-one
to come.

I knew I was in the burning building with her –
and it was like Limburg,  maggoty
but obliged its fortress of a rowboat life.
Without its ice, I am in pine-high, to dull selves
which will later stiff upon these floors.

He was hell. He did this to us.
Not even a masked ******: shown needles
for his dog expression, and I am prodded
rather with teeth than a nose drill.

But she did dissolve before I could have,
must have had thin bones,
of maturity, an osteoporosis ache.

It saved her, perhaps, although she passed:
a kidney stone philosophy book,
these death-doctors will read numb.
I do wonder if it were their hips in fire,
why could they not sit in a mausoleum place.
Just how we did so many instances –
practicing a routine in the bathtub, like knowing.

Had the correct arrangement, too,
I pretended I was in a womb with you.
And mother’s was like that claw-tub so
we, fetus, sensed like castle buffs, carrying
the rings of gold and lockets of princess blood.

Then, she became papier-mâché statues
before a meadow of hell’s dust: I had to kiss
each curve because one ash was not enough.

I knew I was in the burning building with her
when I could not recognize her stumps.
She was an emblem of past upon fair carpet,
or the haze I inhale to shadow –
knowing that he sees our wallpaths and
catches the hum of infernos taking bodies,
then say that he is a monster even more than I.

i've got an iron plate
covered in a definitely liquid fate
behind a spherical unlocked gate
popped open to peek not too late
to see the life that awaits

i've got a trigger happy brain
a kid who complains
an old man who does not remember his name
a star with no fame
honestly lame claims

i've got a bed made of rocks
rooms with walls that talk
premonitions and assumptions that stalk,
gawk, walk and smock
the fantasy ship that never returns home to dock

i've got pairs of no color
foundational pillars that shudder
magnets that reject one another
though positive the father, mother or brother
no force could make them huggers

i've got a memory of the future
and vacant sheets that still stir
lonely animals that still pur
on the backs of women as fine fur
not ever damning the fact they could not also skin her

i've got a bomb with no fuse
useless skillful attributes
an unreachable noose
somewhere near that train with no caboose
a newspaper that never bore news

i've got an inner psychotic earthquake
erupting, held together with paper weights
silent clocks melting against time and space
warped beyond conceivable replace
and a pace set for waste producing smells of unimaginable distaste

i've got millions of appointments
pimples and hemorrhoids needing ointments
osteoporosis making a spine bent
an empty bank due to money lent
an obsession over time never spent

i've got a dangerous urge
to lick a dish for the surge
that stripped the bull of its courage
cracked knees creating pains that gurge
pleading relief from the thaumaturge

i've got a cat with ferocity
only defeated by that curiosity
covered in gems to disguise its true atrocity
that wished it could refer to itself anonymously
but sporting a name that claimed it was descriptive of me

i've got a handful of severity
motions that want sincerity
an over cast of side effects promising what i could be
eyes dialed in, foggy and stripped of clarity
in the mirror its no longer human that i see

brittle bones
osteoporosis heart
pain slipping into the marrow that sips
the endless routine of motion
those clumsy hands blistering
into the open spaces of hollow ventricles
blood is where you last lay your skeletons to rest
but the closet is where i could lay down
listen to all the hangers falling into seismic harmony
until my chest aligns with yours  
like any other bruise by any other name i would have you
gently misplaced on the side of a skinned knee or
clenched knuckle
i am your god and you are mine
if i could breathe like a king i would as
the romantic exhale is caught in your skin
when the fickle violence leaves the lipstick of my mouth
you talk about the emperor mole in the middle of your back
touching your spine and how i retrace it every night with my finger
and it's almost like the heavens are here
in a small bed on a mundane apartment
that could be anybody's

Five.
There’s a lump on my breast that I haven’t told the doctor about.
I told my mum, and she said it was probably fine, so it’s probably
fine, even if my friends tell me to stop chancing it and see a specialist.
Sometimes I try to pop it like a blister or a spot, but it just stings
and then Google tells me that cancer is more of a dull ache, so it’s fine.

Four.
I threw up violently in the bathroom and then my heart felt heavy.
Ignoring the obvious irony of ‘heavy’, I could describe it as:
tight, aching, dull, wheezing, like a fist clenched right around it.
Convincing myself that I was having an elongated, stretched-out
heart attack, I took myself to the hospital.
They gave me acid reflux pills.

Three.
When I was seventeen, I was as seventeen as a seventeen year old can get.
That is to say, my problems were both numerous and the end of the world.
So it surprised exactly nobody, least of all the police officers that were called,
when I took a scalpel and tried to perform surgery on myself. Yeah —
that happened. But at least I got to ride in a police car
on the way to tell the crisis team that everything was really okay, I promise.

Two.
Osteoporosis runs in my family. Like the lamest curse that can possibly
be passed down through female lineage, it’s a given truth that one day,
my bones will become brittle and break. To this day, I haven’t lost my bone-
breaking virginity, and I personally think it ***** to be twenty-one
and have never had the opportunity to get a cast signed. I drink a lot of milk.

One.
To this day, I have a fear of home invasion. I suppose I’m more attuned
to the house-settling noises of being alone. If I’ve made a habit of ignoring
all my own bone creaks, they’ll start popping up in other places.
Like knocking on a door that’s already open. Like the way the bed creaks
when I turn over. Like checking the locks when something is already inside.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Can I get a super tab of acid liquid at some psychedelic doses
And we can crush our noses snorting osteoporosis
Time to process psychosis
I don't know if you know this or you've noticed
But I'm certainly not the oldest or the wisest
But the surprise is that the thing that made me write this was that little bit of happiness that lives inside us

To be young again
But my younger
Days are over
For now
Also I am young
At heart
Also I am a very
Frail person
I can’t no longer walk
I use a whellchair
When I go out for walk
And I don’t mind the
Weellchair
I also have
Osteoporosis
That my bones
Are breaking very easy

Sou um homen feliz
Father and I have
Friends who loves me
Very much
And I also love my friends
Also my friends
Have lots of respect for me
And I am very happy to know
That my friends
Respect my race and religion
My friends knows that
I am a Christian from
The time I was born to now
Also we are proud Christians
We are not fanatic about religion
Because I feel that this would
Be a big mistake
Also we know that our bodies
Are very fragile
And we need to take good care
Of it
We don’t want to end up
Having arthrotis or osteoporosis
Also we get old every year friends
And we are not getting any younger
Friends
I am also telling you the truth friends
Friends I hope that we will live to be 80
Here on earth if our father allowed us
We know that our father is the one that
Owns our lives
We don’t own our lives
We are living our lives to the fullest
Every single day
Also we are afraid of death father
And we find it very scary
So please father don’t bother to call us
Any time to die
Because we want to live all we can
Before we get older
Also father
We are crazy about you
Every time when somebody
Else rather than us  mention
Your name
Make us happy
To know that
You died in the cross for our
Sins

Sou um homen feliz
Father and I have
Friends who loves me
Very much
And I also love my friends
Also my friends
Have lots of respect for me
And I am very happy to know
That my friends
Respect my race and religion
My friends knows that
I am a Christian from
The time I was born to now
Also we are proud Christians
We are not fanatic about religion
Because I feel that this would
Be a big mistake
Also we know that our bodies
Are very fragile
And we need to take good care
Of it
We don’t want to end up
Having artritis or osteoporosis
Also we get old every year friends
And we are not getting any younger
Friends
I am also telling you the truth friends
Friends I hope that we will live to be 80
Here on earth if our father allowed us
We know that our father is the one that
Owns our lives
We don’t own our lives
We are living our lives to the fullest
Every single day
Also we are afraid of death father
And we find it very scary
So please father don’t bother to call us
Any time to die
Because we want to live all we can
Before we get older
Also father
We are crazy about you
Every time when somebody
Else rather than us  mention
Your name
Make us happy
To know that
You died in the cross for our
Sins

Sou um homen feliz
Father and I have
Friends who loves me
Very much
And I also love my friends
Also my friends
Have lots of respect for me
And I am very happy to know
That my friends
Respect my race and religion
My friends knows that
I am a Christian from
The time I was born to now
Also we are proud Christians
We are not fanatic about religion
Because I feel that this would
Be a big mistake
Also we know that our bodies
Are very fragile
And we need to take good care
Of it
We don’t want to end up
Having arthritis or osteoporosis
Also we get old every year friends
And we are not getting any younger
Friends
I am also telling you the truth friends
Friends I hope that we will live to be 80
Here on earth if our father allowed us
We know that our father is the one that
Owns our lives
We don’t own our lives
We are living our lives to the fullest
Every single day
Also we are afraid of death father
And we find it very scary
So please father don’t bother to call us
Any time to die
Because we want to live all we can
Before we get older
Also father
We are crazy about you
Every time when somebody
Else rather than us  mention
Your name
Make us happy
To know that
You died in the cross for our
Sins