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I’ve taken the monster out of the cage today.

I suppose it was bound to happen at some point.

This is what happens when you tempt a beast in hiding.

Like my father’s sobriety, I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
there’s this thirst inside of me,

a monster who enrages my insides and tears me apart
once you feed the monster, there’s no stopping me.

I binge.

And after comes the guilt and the shame and there’s no self-control.

the monster inside me was right, so I got up, and flushed almost everything inside me down the rabbit hole.

I knew I shouldn't have done that, but it was better to get rid of the guilt physically than let it rot inside my body more than it already was.
Mallory Feb 16
I’ve been trying to keep my hands busy
to stop from feeling so needy lately.
But my hands never pick the right things.
I swear I was skinny once, but I have always thought I was fat.
I think
I’ve just been bloated from my grief, all of these years.
Empire Nov 2019
Can’t feel anything
They drug me so I don’t cut
So I don’t **** myself
Won’t let me drink
Can’t get high
Can’t even **** myself
So instead
I ate... and ate...
Til my stomach hurt
Forcing it down
Feel the carbs increase my heart rate
Tiny bursts of mild pleasure
Turning into gluttonous lethargy
I guess I felt something
Anne Jul 2019
My skin is splitting at the seams like a poorly made children’s sweater,
being worn by a planet so big
that it becomes its own universe
This might be it, and maybe that’s fine
Maria Monte Aug 2018
Saline streams ran down my cheeks and found it's way to my lips
Glitter and shine like sequins as they drip down the terrain,
Seeping into the cracks in a desperate attempt to drink the life I've given up

I'm older now but nothing has changed
My wine still tastes like bitter childhood and my cigarettes smelled like my father
(Or maybe my father smelt like cigarettes, I couldn't tell)
A bag of anger packaged in Mcdonald's chicken nuggets sat on my work desk like a trophy to behold

I was only 6 when the first crack in my heart ran through
My mother told me that maybe copious amounts of cheesy fries and roasted chicken would somehow motivate my body to fill it up
I needed reassurance that would coat it in resin
Give it another layer of protection
But she gave me a bag of hard candy so I could sculpt around it

My body shook and my voice cracked as my father left my the family for the 3rd time and I knew my trust was gone forever
But that's fine because 7-Eleven is down the streets
And they have a promo for chocolate-vanilla ice cream
All I needed was a cone to catch the tears as I swallowed it down like melted sugar syrup

I tell myself that adding chocolate chips into my depression would not make it taste sweeter
But when I took a bite out of that cookie, I could barely tell I've been crying
And a few mugs of mocha drowned the thought deep into my mind

I'm older now
But my taste buds still have me ******* on a chain
And it feels like the only way to escape
Is to jump down the abyss
Out of all my crutches, stress eating is the "healthiest" but it destroys me eight times faster in the long run because then I'll worry about gaining weight. Ahhh, tough.
Becca Lansman Jul 2018
My body and mind are at war
two beings occupying the same skin

the diverged desire firing bullets into the heart
creating a cacophony of chaos within me

******* the jar of peanut butter
hidden by the blanket of dark sky
hugging the fridge like a newborn
caressing the chocolate bar wrapper

crouched over
crying in the shower
pinching my skin until bright pink, hot
with anger

trying to resurrect myself into someone more holy
trying to starve
out the monster within

only to find myself back on the bathroom tile singing gospel songs into the toilet bowl.

a cyclical strom
that will not stop raging

like a perverted lover
always, somehow
dragging you back home.
Angel Apr 2018
"Sweetheart, You lose so much weight"
"I'm fine mom, I've already ate"
Sedative words that can't extricate
Food, Is what I begun to hate.

Thin, Thin, Very Thin
Left with bones and waxen skin.
I'm famished but anxious of the kilos
Furtively eating with my eyes, Day by day this is how it goes.

Mirror, Mirror on the wall, can't you see?
What you show is demising me.
Every calorie is a conflagration
Stepping into the scale a redundant vexation.

Stand upon my reflection again
A fat *** is what I see, vociferating of my brain
makes me regurgitate in so much pain.
Drops of anesthetic mainlining my soul
numbers in the scale are reigning without control.

Flesh into ebbing, turning acrimony into cuts
throwing meals, when everyone shuts
All is left is my aweary bones
Still it whispers
"Not thin enough"
Erika Soerensen Jan 2015
It wasn't even good anymore
It was just a
To fill the empty

A glue that I mistakingly
thought would
hold all of my
pieces together.

This pain inside of me is
Burning with endless

This is what I feel

Everything is an
Every positive thought
I must
through my brain
as if

This has been my struggle
All day long,
21 years.

Fighting and slaying and eventually saying
"I give!  I give!"
to my

By nightfall I am
Dreading the continuous
of tomorrow, the next day, the next, the next....

It's an endless merry-go-round of
The same battle
The same
most everyday.

How to escape?

The therapist told me (21 years ago)
She saw women's lives
and turned
over the endless years they've been

And I thought mine was just a phase.....

— The End —