Sep 2013
There's nothing glamorous
About kneeling on the cold bathroom floor
Staring into the toilet
At your dinner
With a finger down your throat
And an imaginary gun to your head
Trying to quiet your heaving
So your family doesn't wonder
And not stopping until you are empty
Until you are sure that every ounce of your enemy that we call food is out of your body
The same body your mother spent hours and hours pushing out of her so your beauty could be shared with this word
Your body which was once a vessel for beauty and love
But has now become a vessel for your self hatred and distruction
No
There's nothing glamorous
About staring into the mirror
After its all said and done
Looking into your blood shot eyes
Searching for something that was lost when you rid yourself of that food
Running your hands under warm water
Trying to wash away the scent and shame
But no matter how hard you scrub
No matter how much soap you use
No matter how strong the water pressure is
They linger
And linger
And linger
No
There's nothing glamorous
About your mother looking at you with tear filled eyes
And asking if you're doing "it" again
Because she can't even stomach to say what "it" is
Almost like you can't stomach the thought of being away from a toilet for more than a few hours
And all you reply with is a dishonest no
You watch as she slowly dies inside
Because she knows no means yes
And she pleads with you
"Why" she cries
And you don't even bother to answer
Because even as sick as you are you know how twisted your reasoning is
No
There's nothing glamorous
About your life revolving around the next time you can get to a toilet
When all you can think about is that next purge
That next release
That next cleanse
Because when you purge you're not only purging your food
But you're purging all those thoughts of stopping, all those thoughts of getting better
When that food hits the water those thoughts quiet
All you hear is "get it out" "get it all out"
They are silenced by your need to be perfect
To be thin
No
There's nothing glamorous
About soar throats
And mouth soars
Scared knuckles
And puffy cheeks
No
There's nothing glamorous
About slowly destroying your body
Your body which is now just a peetry dish for your sick thoughts
Everyday
From the inside
Out
Trust me
I know
About kneeling on the cold bathroom floor
Staring into the toilet
At your dinner
With a finger down your throat
And an imaginary gun to your head
Trying to quiet your heaving
So your family doesn't wonder
And not stopping until you are empty
Until you are sure that every ounce of your enemy that we call food is out of your body
The same body your mother spent hours and hours pushing out of her so your beauty could be shared with this word
Your body which was once a vessel for beauty and love
But has now become a vessel for your self hatred and distruction
No
There's nothing glamorous
About staring into the mirror
After its all said and done
Looking into your blood shot eyes
Searching for something that was lost when you rid yourself of that food
Running your hands under warm water
Trying to wash away the scent and shame
But no matter how hard you scrub
No matter how much soap you use
No matter how strong the water pressure is
They linger
And linger
And linger
No
There's nothing glamorous
About your mother looking at you with tear filled eyes
And asking if you're doing "it" again
Because she can't even stomach to say what "it" is
Almost like you can't stomach the thought of being away from a toilet for more than a few hours
And all you reply with is a dishonest no
You watch as she slowly dies inside
Because she knows no means yes
And she pleads with you
"Why" she cries
And you don't even bother to answer
Because even as sick as you are you know how twisted your reasoning is
No
There's nothing glamorous
About your life revolving around the next time you can get to a toilet
When all you can think about is that next purge
That next release
That next cleanse
Because when you purge you're not only purging your food
But you're purging all those thoughts of stopping, all those thoughts of getting better
When that food hits the water those thoughts quiet
All you hear is "get it out" "get it all out"
They are silenced by your need to be perfect
To be thin
No
There's nothing glamorous
About soar throats
And mouth soars
Scared knuckles
And puffy cheeks
No
There's nothing glamorous
About slowly destroying your body
Your body which is now just a peetry dish for your sick thoughts
Everyday
From the inside
Out
Trust me
I know
I stopped writing to deal with things... I just stopped caring. But today I realized I need to start again, it's as good as any therapy and I missed it too much to stop.
