breakfast is the most important meal of the day
which is something i would laugh off
as my stomach would growl in my nutritions class
and i learned to inhale sharply to somehow combat the noise
the noise of my stomach screaming to the world in that backstabbing way
that i am not eating breakfast
nor did i eat much of dinner
nor will i want to be able to stomach anything for lunch

“i’m completely normal”
my eating habits aren’t rapidly fluctuating
i’m not sleeping during completely random times of the day
trying to sleep off my body’s hunger
like i can sleep off frustration
(nutrients are a constant need
they don’t just stop being things you need
because you just don’t want anything
in your body anymore)

you used to want so much

what’s so baffling is that sometimes
hunger can feel like the muffled conversation
riddled with worry
hunger is the knocking on the door
telling you that it wants to come in
and you don’t want it to
but for a reason you know makes no sense
but it makes perfect sense in the moment

when your brain shakes hands with itself
and tells you that eating is for when the work is done
when the reward is deserved
that a need is a want
and needs are intangible things that keep you socially alive
rather than actually
and then you ask yourself
if you, wanting to feel alive
is the problem

when i don’t eat
i am empty
i don’t make ****** functions
because my body cannot function
and when i function,
my body is empty
and to keep my body empty
i do not eat

there is no beauty in feeling hollow

breakfast is the most important meal of the day
which is something i would laugh off
as i could barely stand up in a hot shower
as i could barely utter a conscious word
without overworking my brain
my brain that shakes hands with itself
to communicate with itself
that i do not deserve to eat food
i do not deserve to feel alive

i want eating
to feel normal
i want to put
priority on food
but i cannot bear
to feel present
but i cannot bear
to be present
when i do not
feel present
because i am
not present
i am not
me

sunflowers lean in the direction of the sun
although this sunflower leaned in the direction
of the warmth that came from the moon

the mysterious light that attracted the flower
not from what it was familiar with
a new experience and a new way to bend

--

although the moon sung with the flower,
pampered its petals with faraway words and
danced through shadows that felt so close

the moon was in the sky
the sunflower danced, lone
in its own lonely patch

the sunflower was the sun of its own
danced to its own tune, smiled, laughed
was so sure of the world and its offerings

but the moon had its own tune
a slow, cautious, steady, unsure
dance.

the sunflower thought to please the moon
whenever it could with its own light
to dance as the moon's stage and to love

but the sunflower could only dance
for so long, until a petal fell
from its yellow petal crown

the sunflower could not evaluate why
it danced for its love. it simply had
to keep dancing

although the sunflower knew that
its petals were falling off
and the sunflower had bent too far

the sunflower had its own frustrations
but the moon hurt wherever it shined
the moon's songs were so achingly
tearful

the sunflower hardly had any petals left










when the moon began to shine its light in another direction

what's that feeling
oh what is it
what's that feeling of
anger
compliance
fogginess
confusion
anxiety
anxiety
anxiety
a­nxiety

that feeling of
shivering
grinding teeth
breathing less
wanting less (food)
food
is
disgusting

but you've hardly eaten since two days

you know you need to eat but you can't and you won't and most importantly you want to but you don't because you can't and you won't

i am dying
i could be dying
i could die

shivering shaking vibrating
my feet are purple from folding them in
from folding my body into itself
and disappearing

shame

My body feels like a door that doesn’t fit its hinges
My arms feel like with each swing, their sockets are prepared to fall out
Like the bones will give out
Like the nerves will explode
Like the blood will boil
And never hold again

My legs have been numb from sitting aimlessly for years
My eyes have been blind from beauty and precision

The feeling of falling
Like your body is falling apart
The edge of the cliff or the building or the dock or the bridge
The feeling of falling

Teeth crunching
Dental bill
“Do you find that you’re grinding your teeth?”
Nerves
Cavity

Nothing
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing

Drastic expectations / exaggerations none

“We’re just calling in today to mention the eventual termination of your place in this organization.”

Body threatening to be pulled by ghosts
Ghostly wailing and demonic laughter
Astral project
Leave

Become nothing
Become husk
Become discarded shell
Stagnate

Die.

(there's something that steadily builds
in the bloodstream of a child with
a father who has the temper of a star
waiting to burst
and to become
mellow again
similar to death
but in silence)

when she touches me, my giving hands
grow cold

when she touches me, my shoulders turn
into themselves

when she touches me, my feet curl
with tension

when she touches me, my depleted body
turns away

her rancid, her caring, her belligerent, her sweet

her nothing

wishing for the strength to push her down

i hate her touching me
there's nothing more disingenuous or violent
than a hand, too hard, too open, too compensating

trying to touch you with warmth
that has been lacking for years

why touch me now if i know you hate me
                                                    (you don't hate me)
                                                    (but i hate you)