Em Quinn Feb 9
my mind is a crimson sky.
stars hidden by the red hues of summer.
clouds cannot be seen beyond the stormy chaos that is free thought.

my hands hold crumbling wheat fields.
each plant destroyed by a sun that shines too bright.
the roots are torn up along my fingertips.

my eyes carry empty oceans.
once full of life, purpose.
the corpses of dreams lay scattered along the iris,
battered by flame.

my wrists are a crime scene,
life ripped away in a single, crisp action.
hanging from each violet vein is a rope of red intention.
skin pulled by string, a tightrope of regret.

my mind is a crimson sky.
stars hidden by the red hues of summer.
clouds cannot be seen beyond the stormy chaos that is free thought.

my body is...
a landscape of colour,
a sky of regret,
a sun that destroys everything in its path.

but my mind is a crimson sky,
a beautiful sunset,
masking the truth.
i don't think much about the future anymore, its getting harder to see.
F White Feb 6
Something of a wasteland lately-
Only elbows, shoulders and ribs.
Tentative and soft about my navel
Yet, above my hips no camel can trace a
Path.
Drops in this desert are fleeting and often the bones
Of strangers get in the
Way.
People look at me now and
Don't know what
To say.
Copyright fhw 2018
b e mccomb Jan 12
give us this day our daily
emotional breakdown
and forgive us our
blackout binges
as we forgive those who
starve themselves for perfection

and lead us not into
inherited obesity
deliver us from
the mental ward

FOR THERE IS SO
MUCH FUCKIN
BREAD IN THIS
HOUSE I CAN'T
TAKE IT ANYMORE


on mlk day i shut my eyes
and see scenes of
squishy white rolls and
pats of margarine

bread
leaden
deadened
feeling in my stomach

i can't eat any
more bread


but here it is
in baskets and
coolers in
toasters and
cupboards

my daily bread
made to sustain me
but turned into
the enemy

deliver me
from risen
yeast in
third degrees

a flour coated
tyranny
mind control
through sesame

swallowing
emotions
down
down
down


quietly settles
until spring
somewhere between
my hope and skin

you can see me
smile and stand
straight and tall
but what you can't see
is this shouldn't be
my body at all

give us this day
our daily bread
and give us the strength
to chew meat instead

copyright 1/11/18 b. e. mccomb
Mikey Barnes Jan 5
oh my god
that guy is so...
thin
his arms like matchsticks
jaw threatening to pop through his bone-white skin
i bet if he took his shirt off
you could count every one of his ribs
i didn't even know they made skinny jeans that size
now what can i do
to look like him?

to what god can i sacrifice these lumpy, extraneous pieces of flesh
in return for a body that doesn't betray me?
to what doctor can i explain that, no
my chest is not enough
please cut out every piece of me that is
too much

i am tired of being soft
and easily broken
where are my hard angles and sharp lines?
i am sick of these handlebar hips and quivering thighs
i gazed into the mirror and nothing i saw was mine

i hear them say,
"i was so dysphoric
i didn't eat for three days"
and i think
what a good idea

at sixteen
i spent my gcse study leave curled over the toilet bowl
fingernails catching on the back of my throat
but i couldn't do it
i'm scared of throwing up
i don't know what's going to crawl its way out of my mouth
i'm scared to see what's rotting deep inside of me

sometimes my shame feels like a concrete slab around my neck
and sometimes like a boulder in the centre of my stomach

the woman in the exercise video says:
"we only have cake on birthdays"
so i ate a whole one and hated myself
the woman at the conference says:
"body positivity is knowing you don't need surgery to love yourself"
so i shook my way through a quiet panic attack at the back of the room
the woman on the end of the phone line says:
"this waiting list is 2 years long”
and there is nothing more i can do

there is so little i can change about my body
that is it any surprise
i dream of dotted lines on my skin
where the scalpel would fit just nicely?
cutting
and pasting
until i look just
like
him
Swimsuit’s filled with odd shaped holes
But a T-shirt covers my stomach rolls
  Sun kissed skin and sun bleached hair
But my cellulite is everywhere
Sharp keen eyes and strong ass thighs
Yet all I do is compromise
How I look it’s not a sin
All I want to do is swim
I’m back
Skye Marshmallow Oct 2017
How can I feel so full
When I am empty
Food ignored
Hungry it's contender
I am empty
Yet
Too
Full
Skye Marshmallow Oct 2017
I dream about the girls
On magazine fronts
Dream for their
Slender limbs
And empty
Skininess
Sand Sep 2017
I look down at my body
And I'm filled with disgust
But I think of your words
And it slowly fades away

I can't hate what you love
I can't spurn what you crave
Your loves makes me love me
And it's pretty hard to love me
There's someone who constantly motivates and inspires me to love my body the way it is. For someone that's always struggled with body image, their company is a breath of fresh air
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