I thought I was smart enough to know that five m&m’s isn’t a meal

Her body is merely an obstacle
A barrier between happiness and reality
She challenges herself to get closer -
and closer
To the bones that hold her together
Reduced to her ivory frame until her foundation becomes unreliable
Unworthy of the beauty she deserves
She is golden, and her hair is glass
Nothing more than an ornament to be adored
She is hungry for nothing but perfection
To be a thread; bones and beauty twisted into one
Filling her insides with the water she will end in
Finished, she is nothing more than what she has become
Not full or whole
In pieces, taped together after tearing herself apart

"Everyone wants to be a little anorexic" she says

"You know, like, in a glamorous way, like fashion friendly anorexic"

I bite my cheek and nod, pretend to agree

All I can think of is waking up to stars dancing on the ceiling

Pale skin with bruises of unknown origins

And battered feet on and off the scale

Almonds in Ziploc baggies

Bite marks on fingers

Hair down the drain

Measuring crunches by the marks they leave on your spine

And battered feet on and off the scale

Enough water to turn organs into boats

Eating an apple with a fork and knife

Desperate hands grasping for ribs

And battered feet on and off the scale

Standing and the world going dark

Coughing around shots of apple cider vinegar

Carrying an emergency rice cake for weak spells

And battered feet on and off the scale

Enough green tea to drown organs

Sugar free gum to mask the smell of decaying organs

Whatever nail polish covers yellow and purple

And battered feet on and off the scale

How many calories are in toothpaste

Thinspo blogs

Pillows squeezed between thighs

And battered feet on and off the scale

Is today the day my heart gives out

Waking every day in a new body

Fingers clasped around wrists

And battered feet on and off the scale

Notebooks filled with numbers

Purple crescents under eyes

Fingers clasped around forearms

And battered feet on and off the scale

Elbows knocking into hipbones

Being scared of your own reflection

Lies to get out of dinner

And battered feet on and off the scale

The stench of *****

Oxygen that tastes of Splenda

Fingers clasped around biceps

And bleeding feet on and off the scale

 

If this is your idea of glamour

Then you can have it

So it comes to me
Shrinking me,
Bringing me down
Diluting my thoughts
Dimming my mind

It lurks beneath the boards
Knows where I am, knows how I live
Comes to maim, stays to ****
So it lurks
So it kills

It comes, sees my pain
Knows where to strike to scar
It lives in all places, possesses all people
So it comes
So it haunts

Never it leaves, forever within
Reigns in isolation
Controls when alone
Here it comes
Here it stays

I'm not an obvious kind of pretty
I don't have natural blonde hair
Or bright blue eyes
No perky little *****
No gap between my thighs
I don't look like anyone else
I bleach my own hair
Use drug store eyeshadow
And **** shopping in Topshop

I have lumps and bumps
Cellulite and pudge
Blackheads and bacne
And prodigious pours
A recipe for nothing special at all!
Just someone average
Who has a bright twinkle
In her fog grey eyes
And curvy hips and ****
That sway in the sun

You have to look close
To see all my beauty
I'm not a runway model
Or a ******* bunny
Just someone on the sidelines
Watching the runway models and bunnies
While they get the attention
And I get brushed by
It's not obvious that I'm beautiful
Until you look into my eyes
Until you see my semi-white smile
Then you notice the little moles
The red and silver scars
The way my body curves
In a voluptuous ans peachy way
And then you see
Just how ******* perfect I am

The little boy in gray doesn't smile often,
and his breathing is so shallow,
they may ask again,
"are you sure that he is breathing? Are you sure that he's alive?"
and rest assured his body's trying
to keep him alive
despite how much he breaks it down
and watches nonchalantly as it drowns.

He longs for poison to taint his blood
and strengthen the walls that creep up around him
(those ugly weeds that stole the color of the ground
and choked out the bound
to be life that would have sprung up at his feet).

He constricts himself like a snake,
and lets himself bleed,
as if all this hurt was not by his hands (callused and uneven and scraped down to bone),
he still cries
as the water rushes down his back
and stings his dull eyes.
He still cries when the hunger grips him and won't let go
even though
he did all this.

The little boy in gray ignores all of this
and continues in his silence
to the outside world,
for he is one among many,
and those others are so worthy.

Every queen must have a throne,
but mine is cheap and flimsy.
A plastic chair made in China,
worth less than a dollar,
swaying under my weight.
To stay from falling,
whenever I sit,
I keep myself light and fit.
I stay perched in reticence,
balancing the paper crown
upon my jaded head.
As tendrils of brown hair,
fall to the floor in plain.
Hands and feet crossed,
bound in leather and chains.