when I read Emerson
just the same
as when hearing
Led Zeppelin
or watching
Breakfast at Tiffany's
just a bit of breathlessness,
a spasm of
echoes ringing bells
Cat,
reflecting back,
in my gasps,
about to burst into tears,
touch,
deeply,
I don't understand it.
It,
is in me,
just driving, on on, endlessly,
the motif, the Theme,
rhythm.

He loved with the cruelty of nature
growing like ivy on my heart;
I'd cut him away but he'd only return

He nestled in my branches
making a home out of my rotting shell,
forgetting home is where the heart is

He said "destruction was a form of beauty"
So he pretended to be reborn a hurricane
Firing open doors better left closed in his wake

At times, it was better to hide from him
Wait out the storm and pretend
everything was perfectly alright

Then when it was all over
He'd kiss my wounds,
grow flowers from my dying veins

But not so long after they would wilt
because even the sweetest of things
couldn't survive within our own toxicity.

"I'm so OCD"
OCD isn't a joke.
Washing your hands over and over again until your skin is raw isn't a joke.
Doing things that your brain tells you to do, regardless of what, isn't funny.
Not having control is not a joke.

"You look so anorexic."
Eating disorders are not a joke.
Refusing to eat until it kills you isn't a joke.
Throwing up over and over again to get a body that you will never be happy with isn't funny.
Being control by the one thing that makes you feel like you have control isn't a joke.

"That made me so depressed."
Chemical imbalances in the brain isn't a joke.
Wanting to do nothing all the time isn't funny.
Wanting to die all the time isn't a joke.

Stop making jokes about things you don't understand.

And if you are dealing with any eating or mental disorder, I am so proud of you for still being here and staying strong. I know how hard recovery is. You will overcome it.