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nic carwile Aug 2018
Just stop eating
Bury every second
You spend lingering in the kitchen
Looking for one more midnight snack
Replace that time with
More productive things
Like exercising off the bowl of
Baby carrots you had that day
That pushed you 34 calories over
Your 500 calorie limit
Watch your mom still
Call you fat
And your sister still tell you
To put down whatever you’re eating
Because you’ve had enough already
Greet your bones
Get to know them as they
Come out of their shell
Protruding at odd angles
From the husk of your torso and legs
And when you have to pull the hair
Out of your hairbrush everyday
And you can no longer feel warm
And your periods no longer come
Look in the mirror and tell yourself
That it was worth it to
Just stop eating.
nic carwile Aug 2018
Ivy
I invited ivy to tangle itself
Around my tender broken heart
Figuring the ivy was a bandage, not a noose
Those invasive vines choked out
My love and emotion
They only left when you wrapped yourself
Around my tender broken body
nic carwile Aug 2018
Tar
I adore the poison
That spills from your lips
Black sludge
Is it sweet like molasses
Or bitter like marmite?
nic carwile May 2018
I swear,
Each nervous footstep I take,
During my late night pacing,
Pounds the phrase
"Nobody cares about you"
Syllable by syllable
Further into my mind.

And in my peaceful moments
Of ignorant bliss,
My brain snaps back
Numbly whispering,
"Things would be better,
If you were dead."

I swear,
Every chaotic night that I try to empty myself
Of all my words and problems
In the form of blood,
and with the tool of a razor blade,
My brain looks on with a satiated look,
And says, "Good job, but,
You didn't cut deep enough."

And when I empty my stomach
Of regrettable food, a.k.a empty calories,
Into the fresh-as-ceramic-snow toilet bowl,
My brain smirks and says,
"Good job, but, you didn't get enough up.

I swear to you,
My empty canvas,
My blank page,
Now corrupted with ramblings,
That when I tell my brain
That I am 'trying my best'
My brain roars back,
"Your best will never be good enough."
nic carwile May 2018
I used to only write my poems in second person
trading out 'I' for 'You'
It made the things I was addressing
My past and my present problems
A little more fiction,
and a little less important
"Of course I'm not writing about myself!"
I'd say as I wrote off people's concerns,
and I'd point out that,
"See? It says 'you,' not 'I'"
nic carwile May 2018
My teeth slice into the warm chocolate
My guilty midnight pleasure
Only but a luxury nowadays
Red liquor pours from the hollow heart of the chocolate

Burning my tongue at first,
But settling to a light sting and a warm
Tingly sensation
I nervously fidget with my hands

As the soft chocolate dissolves in my mouth
To be forgotten eventually
Even if the trace of it
Remains forever

My eyes squint and my eyebrows tilt.
Should I take another one?
Perhaps the question is not should I,
But when will I.

Whether tonight or another night
I am addicted to the pop and burn
The liquor is red like blood
Chocolate soft like skin
And that alcohol seeping down my throat,
Burns like a cut

— The End —