They tell me I am disordered
That the disease skews my vision
But I can't help that what I see first hand
Rings more truth that expert opinions

A battle of logic
A reassessment of my past
Solid justifications?
Or am I with in the wrath?

I drink the coffee every morning
Even though it makes my stomach uneasy
And my hands shake

I skip breakfast in the morning
And set precedent for the day
And the hunger aches

I do it anyway
There is something about rituals
In which I give more than I take

Today I think I failed myself
By the habit's hands I am a hostage
My the liar's mouth I am a slave
Wakefulness is my price to pay
Sleep obviously eludes me
Actions obviously exclude me

Everyday I show up
After the privilege of sleeping at home
To partial hospitalization
A step down from residential
Now they feed my six meals a day
And my whole body resists
As I choke down my meal plan
And cry an internal song
Of repetitive stories
Terrified of my changing shape
Doubtful of their expertise
A frustration beyond myself
A secret plan to return
To my comfortable place
Where I starve into emotional regulation
A safe place to rest a weary, threatened head
How will I ever get better?

I won't tell anyone
What happened to my body
When I was too young to stop it
It is a secret
I've clothed myself with the burden
Let it bore holes in my little soul
I won't tell anyone
What happened to my body

Medicate me now!
I need relief and quickly
From torment internally
From wounds you can't see
I need your release
I am suffering
This is defeat
Medicate me.

The ******* roots of this thing are unbelievable.
They grow right into the crux of my inner most cognition.
Where the gears and bolts and pipes
and all the unseen mechanics of my little mind reside.
They grow inside and through and around.
They clog gears,
burst pipes,
loosen bolts.
I have weeds in my mind,
the kind that suffocate their host.
A fiery invasive species,
the ones that respect only fire and pesticides.