eighty-five
pounds ago, mother told me the secret
to losing it just like she did—the weight, that is
she let me know at eight that a low number on the scale
does equate beauty, that less is more

it’s simple, really, she’d say to me,
i felt disgusting, it got out of hand, trust me
i’d have snipped my skin had i no other option
i’d have shed my flesh had i not had ten fingers

so i frequented that room down the hall for some rest
felt as cascades filled my larynx with emptiness
i'd get high afterwards having thrown every throe up
the smaller the waist/waste, the more waste i’d throw up
and i loved it...

so i'd insist and press my gag-reflex harder just to test it
then savor (the way) the reverse acid-flavored after-taste(d)  
i frequented that shared room down the hall everyday for my next fix
to compuke the total sum of endless time plus ten long fingers
and i loved it...

see, there’s nothing quite as indicative of progress as is
seeing your handmade artwork (sink) in marble canvasses

there’s just one problem
i still feel disgusted today but with
just one difference

the s(kin) i wish to shed is on you and you’re my extension
i’d hate to skin my flesh but what options have you left over?
i(’ m)ean, the key to losing leftover's at your fingertips

eight*y-five
pounds later, i told mother how right she was
i *do love the emptiness, particularly when i'm
in ninety-degree summers and i feel cooler (lean)ing
at ninety-degrees trying hard to find the right angle
for kissing the hard marble my tongue hangs out for with hunger

there’s just one difference
i feel disgusting, i’m just like _
but there’s just one problem

i’m addicted to hitting my speed bag, it has me boxed in
it was in my stomach at first but then it started spreading
like vicious late-stage cancer with its victims, i feel livid
and now my stomach’s sinking and i can feel it turning
upside-down but it’s not the acid or toxicity
or the stress ulcers or my self-disappointment with me  

that today make me puke
my problem, to speak the whole truth
is that it’s not me
mother, it’s _

- end -