once I was aneroxic
I regale the story to my friends
they ask how do you-?
it takes me a while to answer,
and then I remember
that you tell yourself you’re alright
you’ll do fine,
and you do.
because after a while,
the lie starts coming true.

the thing about us
anorexics, cutters, the depressed
is that we lie.
I still am
I do not remember,
I just bring to attention
the sweet hunger pangs
that encompass me,
envelop me.
These are not my friends,
but people who are thin
people with unblemished skin
people who laugh when I fall
people who make my skin crawl

I leave the table
with excuses of
having too much
to drink
I do not make it to the toilet;
I retch in the sink.