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 Aug 2015 kiare
pixels
I binge on poems:
Poems about broken glass
And broken people.

I allow myself
A missed meal,
A forgotten snack.

How innocuous,
The blissfully ignorant
Rumble of my stomach.

But I don't starve,
Oh no-
I was a puker.

My greed takes over
In the haze of smoke
And the smell of his cologne.

I'm fine,
I'm fine,
I'm fine.

I'm too fat
To be sick,
Really.
thoughts only make sense when they are poems.
 Aug 2015 kiare
anonymous999
there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve

some eat cake with their eyes
while others are busy planning their demise
one wants to see bones, another, headstones

one could love themselves if they were just 40 pounds thinner
"maybe i'll love myself if i just skip dinner"
the other has no appetite, a battle with calories she does not fight

a battle, rather, with herself
to **** herself or stay in living hell
too preoccupied to care what is on the pantry shelf

there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve
 Aug 2015 kiare
Jackeline Chacon
It takes so much self hate
To starve as much as me

It takes so much sadness
To use up all your dignity

It takes so much isolation
To have so much to hide

It takes so much strength
To live on half dead inside

It takes so much anxiety
To fear any fat in my skin
                              
It takes so much energy
To constantly be so thin

It takes so much self hate
To ***** as much as me

It takes so much jealousy
 Aug 2015 kiare
Hanna Kelley
Ana
 Aug 2015 kiare
Hanna Kelley
Ana
I met a girl named Ana
she is beautiful in every possible way
her body is perfect, and she was
determined to stay

I made a friend named Ana
she promised to tell me her secrets of perfection
what I didn't know wouldn't **** me
until it led to addiction

my best friends name is Ana
she's always talking to me
recommending to skip two meals
maybe even three

I hate a girl named Ana
she promised me pleasure
instead I feel dead inside
it's nothing but torture

I'm prisoner to a girl named Ana
please, somebody listen to my silent crys
I can't speak my own mind
help me before I die!

my murders name is Ana
she made me starve, she made me weak
death wasn't the solution
I tried to seek
 Aug 2015 kiare
Wednesday
I wonder if you’d want to know
I named all of my demons after you and
they haunt me in my sleep

when I was 14 I fell asleep in April and dreamed of bones and
I’m not sure I’ve really ever woken up since

when I lost 5 pounds I never saw a difference

when I lost 10 my mother said I was looking good

when I lost 20 she told me to stop and handed me food
and I became anemic

when I lost 25 I stopped drinking anything because
I felt water had calories

when I lost 30 my mother held me on her lap
and held my bones together for me

when I lost 35 I started fainting every morning and
the doctors could no longer easily find my blood pressure

when I lost 40 people started to stare and food made me cry

when I lost 45 it hurt to walk and to lay down
it hurt to eat
it hurt to breathe and
I started throwing up my empty stomach

the mind plays tricks on those that decide
nourishment is not needed

Eat.
 Aug 2015 kiare
Eavan Boland
Flesh is heretic.
My body is a witch.
I am burning it.

Yes I am torching
ber curves and paps and wiles.
They scorch in my self denials.

How she meshed my head
in the half-truths
of her fevers

till I renounced
milk and honey
and the taste of lunch.

I vomited
her hungers.
Now the ***** is burning.

I am starved and curveless.
I am skin and bone.
She has learned her lesson.

Thin as a rib
I turn in sleep.
My dreams probe

a claustrophobia
a sensuous enclosure.
How warm it was and wide

once by a warm drum,
once by the song of his breath
and in his sleeping side.

Only a little more,
only a few more days
sinless, foodless,

I will slip
back into him again
as if I had never been away.

Caged so
I will grow
angular and holy

past pain,
keeping his heart
such company

as will make me forget
in a small space
the fall

into forked dark,
into python needs
heaving to hips and *******
and lips and heat
and sweat and fat and greed.
 Aug 2015 kiare
Poppy Johnson
it's the hardest thing in the world,
watching you fade.
I'm waiting until you become dust
all for a more prominent ribcage
and to be able to cut diamonds
with your collarbones.

it's the hardest thing in the world,
watching you cry
in front of your reflection.
your pain is never beautiful
but your soul always will be.
you always were.

it's the hardest thing in the world,
watching you die.
you were always so fragile,
so delicate. I fear you might snap
when I try to hug you close,
with your bones digging into my arms.

it's the hardest thing in the world,
watching you fight.
although, it's not so much of a fight
when you're too tired to
and the winner is guaranteed
and you never wanted to win anyway.

— The End —