i hunger for something i cannot ingest
not because i will choke on it
or because i am allergic to it
not because of its rarity
or because it is unethical to produce

but because
without having tasted it
i began to want it and crave it
without knowing its name
i began to dream about making and consuming it
without even knowing its ingredients
the longing for it began to consume me

i began to starve for its softness between my lips
its give between my bared teeth
its flavor on the tip of my tongue
the aftertaste of its broth in the hollow of my throat

i began to daydream about its weight in my stomach
making me feel comfortable full and yet unbloated
i would eat it for every meal and be satisfied
if i could just find it

at night i lay awake
close my eyes and lick my lips
trying to recall that heavenly taste
i cannot gain access to sleep until i remember it just right
and when i do i dream of devouring it

the thoughts devour me
my stomach caves in
and my ribs and hipbones poke through my
translucent skin
but i will not eat again
not until i found this food
that floods my starving brain

I feed my habits
And ignore my needs
As distasteful as it seems
My plan succeeds
I plant the seeds
That grow the weeds
Won't feed myself
I starve, deceased.

We are not afraid of the mirror,
We are afraid of the monster it shows.
We are afraid of porcelain skin
stained red,
afraid of never finding the bone,
afraid of never finding the very
core essence of our control.
I am afraid of being too much,
of not being enough,
of this skinny love
for a non-skinny reflection,
afraid of failing
if I am never able to see
my porcelain bones
imprinted on porcelain skin,
my very core
protruding from within.

I am my own control.
and one day,
I shall see it in the mirror,
even if I have to fall into it
and become the monster within.

I live life on the end of a yo-yo string.

One moment high in the sky,
My strings neatly wrapped away where they can’t get tangled, where they can’t get beaten and battered and torn by open air,

The next moment spinning so fast I can’t tell what’s real, toes brushing puddles I come closer to with every swing, strings on display for the world to see until I can find it in me to wrap it all up again.
And I know that one day my strings will wear thin, they will snap, and I will sink.

One day, when I go down, I will not come back up.

you lure me like
a mosquito
craving for your
blood
starving
for your
love.