Peaches and cream
All just seem
A bit too sweet

At a run down BP
The man in front of me
With rotten teeth
Is purchasing
Marlboro reds, coffee
And a chance to win the lottery

Gets what he needs,
Then goes on with his deeds
Walks by me
Like a blind man
Who cannot see
Maybe he'll be the winner

Now I'm next in line
Cashier asks "how are you?"
I say fine
They don't care if that's a lie
All I buy
Are peaches
To feed my hunger
Peaches for dinner

I devour
Counting down the hours
Days until I eat again
Slowly becoming more sour
Losing all my power
I hide like a coward
Benith moldy skin
Rotten from within

Same as a peach,
I wither and decay
Who is to say
tomorrow is another day?

Just eat
Just eat and you'll be cured
Eat and the voice will stop
Eat and you won't look at the fat anymore
Eat and you won't think of the imperfections
Eat and you'll be happy
You will pretend nothing ever happened
You won't think of the tears
or the exhaustion or the anger
That's what they told me,
Just eat and it'll be okay
How funny it is,
to believe in ignorance,
in those who think they know,
without experience
funny
the voice never stopped

I hate what I see,
looking at my reflection,
staring back at me

I hate what I saw,
the numbers on the scale,
it destroys my
mental state of being

Why do I hate me?

Eating disorders are never romantic.

Sometimes, I dream of food:

Burgers, cakes, fries set out in a pan of grease that's deep enough to swim in—

I get lost in it. I eat and eat and push my blue-tinted fingertips into layers of frosting and cream, letting chocolate bliss wash over me like a baptism.

Then I wake up.

Guilt rips into my bones, and I feel a sick sense of relief.

I clutch my aching stomach, run my palms against the protrusions of my hips.

I lick my lips and swear that I could taste honey and brown sugar, and for a moment I lay in bed watching dots in my vision swirl away into the unknown.

My feet are as cold as the rest of my body, and I think for a second how nice it would be to wake up warm.

How would it feel to turn over and see a lover sleeping next to me? I don't know. I've never known, but I like to imagine.

For breakfast, an egg (75) with plain toast (95) and tea (5).

Round up. Always round-up. I don't finish. I never finish. I'll repent if I do.

Waking up is cracking joints and a tight jaw. The only thing to comfort me is hot bitter water and hope in between numbers. Always numbers.

I catch my reflection in the door of my microwave. I turn away.

Sometimes, I dream of food.

On other days, I wish I couldn't dream at all.

I have this vintage dress
it's green
Silk
Gorgeous
every six months I try it on
every six months it doesn't fit
this time
it fit my waist
but I couldn't fit my arms into it
I tried so hard I ripped it
You must be thinking
Just buy a new dress
But to buy a new dress is to admit I am me
Not the skinny thing I long to be
To buy a new dress
Is admitting they were right
That he was right
That I am just going to be fat and alone forever
so now my focus
is on making my arms slim
arm fat exercises
googled and practiced
I'm going to fit into that dress
even if it kills me
you can bury me in it
I'll be the thinnest prettiest corpse you've ever seen

Counting... Always... Counting.

A cup of herbal tea, maybe with some sugar.
If I feel up to it.

Maybe some soup, grilled cheese.
If I can stomach it.

Dinner. Whatever mom makes.
My only supervised meal.

Tired, all day... Every day.
Drowning in college papers.

The curves I worked so hard to get back...
Well. They're nearly gone.

Protruding hip bones,
Protruding collar bones,
Boney fingers,
Pale skin,
Fantastic figure and pretty ribs,
Cold toes and bad circulation.

Heart murmurs... Shaky breathing... Migraines... Exhaustion... Confusion... Lethargy... Weight loss

Shaking, Shaking, Shaking...
Shivering?

Gotta go make a cuppa, warm up a bit.

But... what's left for me to be healthy for, anyway?

I'll take a bath to warm up instead






Probably.

I told them
About the hungry and the barren
being I had become
about the not eating
the crying
the ice coffees
the empty calories I had become

The silence in the room was
Screeching
at me
I didn't know what they would respond with
But worse than anything I considered was
The silence
the calm
they responded with
The noise of my sobs
Too loud in this small sunny, peaceful room
I've now ruined

i never understood the phrase
home is where the heart is
until i was shaking on the floor of
my hospital room and it was nothing
but walls
and even when i found the energy to
decorate with cliché little things
like fairy lights, posters, my
skeletal “art”
i felt the room swallow me whole
until i was nothing but a grain of sand
my new roommate was a wrinkly zucchini-girl
and i tried not to speak to her
but we heard each other cry in the night
and we never said a word
but i could feel her eyes on me
a girl down the hall
heard me talking about my addiction and
she told me she would pray for me
later that day she pushed me
into a wall and pressed her
lips against mine
then told me i was tempting her,
i was a sin
just waiting to happen
so i sat in the dark outside her room every
night before i went to sleep
and sometimes she would
come out
and hold my hands
and tell me she loved me