All I want
today
is to give up.

I want to stop eating.
I want to stop thinking.
I want to stand in the snow
and let my body freeze
until I've burned off every last calorie
I want to run until I puke.
Then run more.
Until the moment comes that I black out
Until that empty moment
of empty relief
comes to me
even if it's only a moment.
I just want to be free.

Because I'm living in a personal hell
most days lately I don't even know myself
I can't look in the mirror without disgust
I freaking hate my stinking guts.

I've never hated it so much
that I'd rather stay inside.
I've never been so ashamed
that all I wanted to do is hide.

But today that's where I am.

I'll write to starve
She said.

I'll eat words,
Develop a bulemic
Mentality,
Purging the words
To the page in
Nauseating bursts.

I'll force it
When I have to.
I'll write when
The hunger pangs
Themselves,
Start to eat me.

I'll sum up calories through
Raucous poetry.
I'll grow weak
As my pen grows strong.

I'll write even when
My hand shakes
Because there's not
Enough sustenance.

I'll deny my body,
And cultivate my mind
With measured abundance.
I'll shrivel up and
Waste away.
But the words will stay
On the paper.

You'll see and say,
How can a skeleton write?

I'll grip the pen
With bony fingers
And I'll show you.
I'll feed you too.