I change course everyday which is probably why I can't keep up.

my thoughts are moving at the speed of sound,
the speed of light
and they never slow down.
I can't seem to grasp pleasant thoughts, for they escape me too fast. I tend to catch the bad ones and exercise them to death.

I used to believe in catharsis in that the razor running across my thigh was simply an extension of the paintbrush across the canvas.  the blood was just tangible emotions dripping off of my razor, my paintbrush. "art" was painful but it was there for me no matter what.

I long ago disproved any theory of me fitting into a mold. I don't think any mold is deep enough to fit everything that comes with me. the day that they find such a mold will be the day i fully understand myself.

they'll never find it.

We are the girls who walk around with little bird bones,
rib cages ready to snap when we spread our wings and
fly away

and for my next act,
I shall disappear little by little until I am ash.

I’m not eating for four days or until
I can feel the ***** that is my stomach start to shrink

I used to refuse food for weeks
it amazes me how self-indulgent I have become

I am ready to eat spoonfuls of air
spin my hair into a models top knot and
know that water is a privilege not a right

a million screaming girls saying
“but im not hungry”
while a tiger flays their insides open at night

Kate Moss said "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels"
and I suppose she is correct
What happens when you learn the tongue is a muscle not to be used

What happens when sustenance is no longer needed
When the mind decides
the very thing that keeps the body alive is a punishment

What happens when you refuse a necessity of being human

I can hear your back crack,
in the dark.
Removing your underwear
with chewed fingernails:
You softly ask
if we can share scar tissue
and if I'll stay
despite every issue.

You try to kick the covers
off of our bed,
and ask if we can share the thoughts
buzzing inside of your head.

When insomnia erases your eyes
and disease steals your brain:
You inhale ways to die,
because you still dream
but it's not the same.

I can hear the static in your skull.
I know why you keep
the kitchen knives dull.
You pull on my fingers
so I don't forget you.
You cry on the pillows
and hope I like romance too.

I kiss your temple
during each thunderstorm.
I read you books in bed,
because your eyes are worn.
I put my ear to your chest
because I want you to see
that the air you breathe
means everything to me.

light you on fire and inject you into my veins, per diem

I'll never forget you.

I'll end up spending the rest of my life chasing a high slightly comparable to the trips you took me on

I don't think that you could ever fathom the fact that being dope sick was unnervingly pleasant compared to trying to live a day without you

you drove me to rehab and didn't even park.

you weren't supposed to pick up shattered glass, it leaves cuts on your fingers.
and you aren't supposed to get attached to someone that's broken because you'll never know them as a whole.
nobody told me that the devil was once an angel and that to trust someone is to allow them to crush you in the slowest possible way.
nobody told me that you shouldn't chase hurricanes or that humans love to destroy themselves getting caught up in something they can't control.
nobody ever told me what infinity was and that 'forever' usually lasted about a month.
nobody told me that humans can only live a couple days without nourishment but can withstand a lifetime without love.

They were broken children
Their scissored minds ran them
In spirals
Until they sat with crossed legs
And crossed lips
To press themselves flatter
They were cut-strings marionettes
Who danced
In an attempt to wring calories
From their balsa-wood bones
Which refused to give
And who pinned their painted smiles
A little tighter each morning
They were snapped-spines picture books
Who’d been warped too far by society
And had had their pages torn from the crease
So that words hung like razor blades
And spliced from each vertebrae

They took them to the circus
Where they were the **** of every joke
But when the clowns speared them with dripping eyes
And artificial mouths that were stretched over grimaces
Like the dust-jackets from different stories
They stared back glassily
Because how can you be afraid
Of the broken clockwork of your reflection?