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That girl
Is skin and bones
Takes long drags on her cigarette
Makes funny comments
About not eating
She's mysterious and vague
And she's not real
Eating disorders are not fun,
Or cute, or romantic, or tragically beautiful
There's nothing romantic
About worrying about
Your breath smelling
Of ***** while kissing
Someone you love
There's nothing romantic
About seeing an expensive dinner
Your boyfriend bought you
Swim blurrily in the toilet
There's nothing beautiful
About rotted teeth
And hair growing on your arms
If you think this is beautiful,
You can have it in exchange
For the ability to do basic things
I need in order to live
Like ******* eat  
It's not beautiful
To never feel beautiful
And never love yourself
So when we see ribs on a girl
And you see romance,
I'll see her ribs
As a cage
Keeping the pain in
My bulimia has come back bad again.
All or nothing
I've reached this crossroad
Before this, I've been hiding in fiction
In every word I've read and wrote

I'm stepping up to the plate
Because I can't stop the world
How much do I want to live?
How hard am I willing to battle?

Can I count on you
To lead my through this Wonderland?
If I take the easy route
Would you still hold my hand?

The road I walk on now
Is shrouded with hate and shame
And I'll have to fight impulses
As I'm inclined to stay the same

Because the future's in my palms
And I'll meet a dead end
If I keep up this way
And don't stop this trend

Standing at this pivot point
Preparing for what comes next
Since the hardest part of getting better
Is taking the first step
Things have been crazy recently. I've started talking to adults about my emotionally abusive mother and my dad's been talking about moving in with him or someone else and getting help and also I have a huge other world of problems like my suicidal ideation and my eating disorder and I feel like getting help and facing my problems is impossible and yet it's so close.
She stood tall,
Flamboyant as she swirls,
Encapsulating dreams while dancing,
In a come-die ballet, from times evaporation,
Playing hysterics in magical fire dance of ritual celebrations,
Playing games of passion creations,
Such beauty in an aura of pleasure and pain,
In rigaudon she pastes her grace,
For she is not a dancer,
For she is my quill,
The dancing pen removes my ills.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
 Jun 2014 danceforever864
It's a sad tale
It's true
It happened to me
Don't tell anyone, please.

Darcy was a fifteen year old
Came to San Francisco
was the place.

The most beautiful girl
I had ever seen
then I was only 19.

A different story
a different tale
Hugh Hefner
had given her
a flirting stare.
Just to let you know
how beautiful she might have been.

I lived on Homer Lane
Darcy and I, of course
lovers became.
She moved right on in.

As young lovers often do
3 months is 3 years
Darcy flew off to Wycoff
to see her crazy parents
he had built a wall
blown down by the wind
she dressed like Anthony Quinn.

As young lovers often do
three weeks later
I followed her
just to
see what we
were going to do.

The next thing I knew
were living on 12th Street
across from the New School.
Jimi Hendrix
down the block
screaming guitar jamming
from his fourth floor apartment
we'd all stop and listen.

I was going to
Gerdy's Folk City
singing my version
of my own written
Bob Dylan songs.

Darcy was putting
Huey Newton posters
on our rent controlled apartment
front door.
Somebody kept ripping them off
She added more layers.

Needless to say
we were evicted the next day
as young lovers often are.

It was summer
Woodstock came
Darcy bought us tickets
get us in the game.

I was working as a copywriter
writing movie ads
Every father's daughter is a ******
wasn't one of mine.
My claim to fame
for a short time running
trending you might say
"Up Madison Avenue"
a girl dancing on the top of a fist.

had an ill fated
voyage to France
smuggle hash.
almost got us busted
the airport
Darcy's friend
who bought the plane ticket
hadn't told her about the ******
took the hash
was coming back.
never saw him again.


As young lovers often do

We met at 5pm
the Port Authority
a Friday summer night

There were a lot of people
jammed together
knocked around
really tight
pivot point
it wasn't all right
claustrophobic bound

You know the drill

Heart pounding
hands tingling
hyperventilating to.

What would you have said
what do you think you would do?

"I gotta get out a here.
Let's go to the movies instead. "

She was very kind
and saw
Putney Swope
Up Madison Avenue.
The city was empty.
I heard a pin drop
that warm summer night
New York City.

The very next morning
was gone
Woodstock bound.
I was watching bowling
thinking something profound.

Two things left
to say:

will this shame

guess who didn't
his *******
Today is the 45th Anniversary
A blank canvas, inspires a painter
A blank paper, inspires a poet
From a blank we can draw inspiration
They are not blank, but an empty space
Untouched with the creative juices
To be filled with different moods of hues
And written on, with the most fertile thought
From a blank, we can draw a conclusion
Inspired to come up with most enchanted sketches
As artistry is the masterstroke, drawn on a blank
An abstract idea sketched, to inspire*

© Amitav (Radiance)
"Dogs are man's best friends"
So he ignored the "woof! woof!!"
... now, gunshots sound... "WOOF!!!"
 May 2014 danceforever864
 May 2014 danceforever864
Is see her standing over there,
looking in the mirror
comparing herself to others.
She's hating herself,
because she doesnt have,
the beautiful ballet-arms,
or the widest gap,
between her thighs.
I never noticed,
how skinny she was,
until now.
I could almost,
see right through her.
Every time she concentrated more,
on perfectioning her dance,
you could see the layer of insecurity,
covering her capabilities.
She's passionate,
and has talent.
But she doesn't believe it.
And in her head,
she never will.

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