eating disorders are a simile for a coffin.
it hurts to breathe, with 6 feet of dirt pressed on your chest,
6 days of emptiness pressed on your chest.
your mother buried you the day you stopped eating,
your eyes are still open but she does not see past your pale skin,
frail bones,
hollow stomach.
this door does not open from the inside out,
you missed a chance to grab the hand that tried to help you.
if you had known the late nights she spent sobbing over losing you,
before you were even gone,
would you still have chased this emptiness?
the day you lusted for hollowness rather than wholeness,
you squeezed your mothers hand,
and told her to save her love for the living.

i can picture it
dusty desert roads
old motels when the
sky opens up and the
holes in the tent leak
the empty rooms and
bare mattresses of a
creaky single wide

a patch of wall where
a cross once hung for
so long the wallpaper
holds its faded image

payphones and
diner booths
card games and
cold pews

(sunbeams dreamily
landing in your eyes)

i can almost taste
cola flavored slushies
cans of beans and
cigarettes and coffee

and smell burnt pancakes
egg casserole the way grace's
mom made it at home
secondhand smoke a bonfire
made from incense and an
abandoned white church

i can hear the songs
the laughter tears and
screams to heaven over
rumbling rubber tires

i know the way they
talk and theorize
argue and laugh
cry and pray

i've felt it before
somewhere here
and there in
twinges of time

but nobody ever claimed
you could wander the
world in one day or that
writing a gospel was easy.

Concept: me, gazing wistfully at the stars, my favourite one has a haze of blue around it, and so bright, so bright.
Sometime later, one by one, the stars fall to earth, growing legs and arms and eyes. my blue hazed brightness lands in my garden, there is eternal peace in his light, and he, in turn, has been looking wistfully at me for lifetimes.

I am nothing more
Than brittle bones
And a frail heart
Praying
For someone
To make me better

So strange how language can fall apart
Like pieces of a broken puzzle,
Double sided and colored by
Trust or lack of it,
Love or fear
Strange is a word
All perceive from a window
Of their own unique bubble
So when peering outside we are still
Split atoms of a mass
That has no certainty
It ever existed