Alcoholic bulimia.
Empty out your insides.
Hardly anything within you.  
Still purge all of it out.
Leave a synthetic stomach As Barren as the lost at sea.
Puking until  weakened by vicious dry heaves.
exhausted and now pleased
Tile rubbing raw the knees.

Alcoholic bulimia.
Put cold fingers down your throat. Alcoholic bulimia.
Laughing as one chokes.
Alcoholic bulimia.
Bronze hair in ***** soaked.
Put cold ******* fingers.
Down your cut up throat.
Put cold ******* fingers.
Down your cut up throat.
Put cold ******* fingers.
Down your cut up throat.
Alcoholic bulimia.
Alcoholic bulimia.

Finger nails cutting the asofogis.
Head in toilet stains with

Bulimia is a scary thing.
That is a fact.
She'll cradle and choke you.
But she'll get rid of the fat.

Bulimia is a scary thing.
But this is for sure-
The burning in your throat and mouth
Will not be the only sore.

Bulimia is a scary thing.
Late at night when you're alone
She'll be with you
Kneeling at the porcelain thrown.

Bulimia is a scary thing.
Because very soon
She'll have you dreaming
Of being a thinspo.

The stomach pain is horrendous
The taste of dessert coming back
The look of disaster
stab me, choke me, **** me
The disapproval upon the faces
The miserable sounds in the background
The insecurity peaking out
save me, help me, rescue me
The choke before the gag
The spit before the rest
The death in my stomach
take me, be me, please
The blood in my gums
The ache in my throat
It's over–
I'm alright again.

Dreaming of walking model thin
Unaware she's bones and skin

She lives in a damaged brain
Drowned from her vomiting pain

Her insecurity torn up her mind
Left her bulimic and mentally blind

Always hugging her toilet beside
Half dead from purging her soul inside

Crying because her ugly reflection
She won't give up until she's perfection

knuckles rubbed raw by
teeth so sharp and blunt
a tongue rough and silent

violent retching
self-harm for a throat
already held by a noose

she promises
just

one more cookie
one last bite
one last calorie
one last breath
one

the toilet bowl is her best friend
and she hugs it close
when no one can hear

No matter how many times he hurts you
No matter how many times he wrongs you
No matter how many times someone tells you how dangerous he is
You crawl back

You crawl back with a head full of muddled thoughts
Searching for satisfaction
Convinced that he’s your salvation

Each time you lie next to him
In a fitful sleep
Bearing your guilt as he sleeps smugly and soundlessly beside you
Because he knows that no matter how much you fight

You’ll be back

You put your fingers in the back of your throat
In hopes you can gain what you have already lost
control
But you are lying to yourself
Because you never really had it

I am destroying my body
With every purge I take
And the sickest thing is
I am perfectly fine with it.