you know it's bad when your boyfriend says good job after the rice from the crooked crock *** slips off the silver spoon into your cotton mouth
brushing my teeth over and over
to let the mint overlap the guilt
when you can feel your insides becoming one because they can't stop eating eachother
when cuticles crack
when nails are no longer nails
but nubs
when the once thick curly hair
is now patches lying on the bathroom floor
satisfaction isn't even real to me anymore
i don't the difference between
sweet and savory
because all i can think about is the clanking of silver spoons
leading to acidic
bathroom visits
it's a feeling of relief when
my belly is empty
and the only thing
i can feel is the cool water
slipping into a
well of mistfortune
the panic attacks are real
and at their worse.  
i've never felt this way before
i know i'm depressed that's been
scribbled down on the therapists
paper for years now
but this
this here is a different feeling
this is rage
this is digging my nails
into my carmel skin at 4am
because the razor
is too far away
i cant count the number of times
i've carved a 4 into my legs
it's gotten bad
he's pulling my hands away from my hands so i can't pinch them anymore
but baby i cant stop
i'm just gonna pinch
your hands
this isn’t a panic attack
this is called i can't control myself
this is pulling patches of hair out
because physical pain feels 100 times better than the heaving in my chest