I train my body

daily to embrace people –


with strength and beauty.

Pain wracks my fragile bones.
Everything hurts me,
So please, please don't
Come close or touch me.

I can't look at my body
Because it isn't what I want.
I know it's selfish, you see,
But it's a paper without a font.

My skin is a tapestry of
Beauty and pretty and all
In the perfect girl you'd love,
But guys: absolutely appalled.

Nothing matched on me-
I'm the missing left sock,
My bones' rattle is all I'll be
Until I take the final walk.

~
In her sulking-place
alone and naked

framed in soft sepia
—the vintage, harlequin hue

at this supposed faded hour
she sits looking back on memory

she sits and stares
into the boudoir mirror

at herself
at her embonpoint

yes, at these *******
—at their landscape

how they fall
(like Niagara)

where they point
(like a compass)

what they tell (so fondly)
when pressed together

about their time
—their work and play

towers on the precipice
of judgment

both callous and
uncharitable

if the mirror
truly be her reflection

her vision is turned around
as illusion

—a study of tonality and tolerance
for one's own flesh

the room
an invitation

or perhaps
a lockaway

where she even keeps secrets
from herself
~

my eyes were downcast,
never meeting my reflection,
my body shrunk into itself
when shame embraced me.

I straightened my shoulders,
and shame got out of the way.
I kept my arms out, forming a bubble
that shame could never, ever break.

and once I did that,
I greeted the mirror,
and my reflection smiled
for the first time.

Take my body
I no longer need it
My soul is already yours

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.

i am trying to come to terms
with gravity
as i fall toward the floor
with the awareness of the your
face framed in the hall door.
that's an exaggeration—
there's a certain inaccuracy
in conversations about bodies,
personal and celestial, revolutions one around the other,
that is unavoidable due to limitations
of the form. so i like to be precise
where it can fit in between the
cumbersome dances we do.
i'm not falling toward the floor
but i might as well be. i can't tell you that.
what's wrong you ask again
but something i read about planets
is that they're much farther apart than the human mind
can even conceptualize. that most of space is empty
and cold as we dare to spin through it.
i'm thinking of the audacity of revolutions
and you just wanna know why i'm so sad.
i think about bodies. sinew and joints and the red
****** meatstuff that fills in the places in between.
a heart pumping blood and a mouth that refuses to admit it.
about the physicality, the weight of it sinking
into beds that aren't mine, bodies that aren't mine.
you're not standing in the doorway anymore, no one
stands in doorways forever. especially not
for someone who refuses ownership
of the space taken up by their own body. constellations
are outlines of disparate points someone tried to find a
story in. i'm not much better.
i think of heavenly bodies, i think of stars
but they don't tell me anything
i wasn't trying to deal with already.

Have you ever thought why so many people write about their misfortunes more than about happiness?


The word happiness has no specific definition but it is described as emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy. But it never lasts long.

Every other emotion like rage, suffering, love, pleasure, anger, sadness, etc. Are derived because of the disappearance of happiness. The state of being happy does not last as long as every other emotion because of the hurt, it is engraved in our minds, and in our bodies.

The more we live, and the more experiences we encounter,  good or bad, have you not realized that happiness isn't a long-lasting, permanent feature or personality trait, but a more fleeting, changeable state. But when we’re unhappy, it never seems to go away, it's always there, even when we try to replace it with the distractions in our environment.

We create an alternate reality to avoid our present tense of the things that actually exist because in our minds we have yet to accept the idea that we are not ready.

We are unwilling to face it to avoid discomfort because the truth hurts, and it's more comfortable to stay inside our little cave of darkness, than in a place that will blind us with light so bright it hurts your eyes.