A tablet that is first sweet dissolves on my tongue in hopes that it relieves the feeling of stomach bile rising to my throat.
And as I step into the shower, drool dribbling down my slack chin, it leaves a bitter, almost intolerable taste in my mouth.
My head against the shower wall I’m unable to even wash my own body tonight, the thought of moving my arms to grab the body wash is insurmountable.
Catatonic, my pain turns me into a vegetable, only able to speak few words at a time like a toddler who has just learned to talk.
Afraid of the fluorescent lights as I sit on a thin piece of paper
All for a man in a white coat to prescribe me another pill to create a new sickness in me.
Sleep no longer an escape, for when I wake the stiffness pounds away mercilessly against my skull even more so, like a construction worker with a jack hammer tearing apart pieces of cement.
My skull is splitting in two day by day by day until it can no longer contain me
Maybe then I will find relief
I can only hope so.

Here I am, 20 years of age
Still unable to enjoy a beer in a public place
Yet I sit in my best friend's apartment on a Friday night
The glow of the city life shining on me through the singular window
And in my quietness I hear the banter of people likely having lived longer than I
Drunkly sauntering in the cold
And I think I should be envious of their openness
Of their still fully sound youth
But then I realize that my preference to simply observe from afar
Is not of my own fault
But of the people and substances who took my youth away
And it died far too young.

It is a sunny day in this new world
The sun covers me and the fluorescent green of grass
Perfectly trimmed, perfectly tickling my bare legs
Into focus is the sound of boys speaking
And the outlines of bodies sitting beside me fade in and out
These are my friends, I think
And I'm suddenly very aware that they are boys
And I am not.
As many get up to leave, I'm not sure why I don't follow
Laying on my side I feel as if I could sleep within this dream
Within the warmth of this star
As I realize the presence of someone behind me
Strangers hands all over my body
A faceless perpetrator
Re-enacting the emission of a very specific kind of disgust
I've found often in my waking life
Rubbing this slime that oozes from his hands
All over my unwilling body
This time I try to yell Stop
But I can only whisper this opposition
But atleast this time
I tried.

i want to fill everyone's cups
but i cannot accept any return of the favor
a pitcher only half way full
accidentally spilling more and more
tripping over people along the way
to being empty

I boil and bubble over my clothes like steam over a cauldron
Cooking up a dreadful brew
At times unaware,  at times I am still in the body of a 16 year old
At war with her mind and body
Bones almost audibly creaking with each gust of wind
And although the world wasn’t kind to me all of those years ago
And although I wasn’t kind to me
And although older boys snarled their teeth at my protruding rib cages and hip bones hungry for a snack
I’d do anything
To get my body back

And boy, if they didn’t gnaw away at my skin and flesh
I may have been left with my beautifully rigid shell
But my insides are spilling out in soft rolls
Reflections making my head spin, the spinning of the clock, the new looseness of my exterior, my own hell
Maybe if I could do a spell I could tell the goddess how my body once fell at the hands of the Devil and it began to swell like a balloon and I’m waiting for it to pop
I’m waiting for it stop
And hopefully then
I will no longer dwell
On how much I hate a body
That holds me so well

Weeks rolling in and out of bed, eventually the blankets become rough
But under them I remain, my skin rubbing off in sheets
And pillows stained with drool and ash and milky tears
The bed sticks to me, engulfs me
As if i were to leave, i'd leave pieces of me
Like a decomposed corpse
Left hidden in an abandoned home
With no one to find me full of maggots
With no one to clean me up
And put me neatly in a wooden box
So I can finally rest

Usually I can write some stupid poetic ******* that dances around what you did to me and what I'd like to do to you
This did not make me better person
This did not help me grow
Reverting backwards and I did not come out unscathed
In fact, I'm still covered with your sins
They follow me every waking moment of my nightmare of a ******* life
I would've sacrificed myself if I could
You should have taken me and only me to satisfy your cannibalistic tendencies
but now I'm losing count of the amount of innocence lost
And its been almost three whole ******* god forsaken years
Yet everyday I find out more, keeping a file on you and the atrocities committed
A timeline in mind that plays over and over again, everytime filling in another blank
Everytime becoming fuller of rage than the day before
I'm taking the knife back.