Hanging her head into depths of an oubliette,
the toilet bowl grieves inside muddied ruin.

An early avocado and piles of bile simmer
inside porcelain wastelands. Her face, a dark fillet,

fat like a flea questing on skin. Fingers joust
her drawbridge mouth. Cavaliers cannot rescue.

Tiny talons scratch the back of her throat,
distant organs heaving during the battle

of the bulge. Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.
She tastes it twice. Flecks of spit singe cheeks

like undersink chemicals. Her imperial
belly wails, a damsel distressed.

Alice sits beside the looking glass and touches her reflection
Breaking down beside the girl she cannot see is perfection.

It wasn't even good anymore
It was just a
HABIT
To fill the empty
VOID.

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

This pain inside of me is
DEEP
and
UNRELENTING
Burning with endless
REGRET.

This is what I feel
24
hours
a
day.

Everything is an
ACT.
Every positive thought
I must
PUSH
through my brain
as if
lifting
a
HOUSE.

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

Fighting and slaying and eventually saying
"I give!  I give!"
to my
RELENTLESS
Dragons.

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

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

How to escape?

The therapist told me (21 years ago)
She saw women's lives
RUINED
and
LOST
and turned
UPSIDE DOWN
and
INSIDE OUT
over the endless years they've been
SURVIVING
this
DISORDER.

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

And I thought I was getting better

      but then I woke up on the tile

the water had lost its heat and the burn had moved to my throat

she looks in the mirror
trails a finger down her skin
doesn't feel her bones
ashamed of the skin that she's in
she takes a bite of the bread
succumbing to the devil
but she pours the ipecac down her throat
Mia and Ana, rolling in their revel
crying into her pillow
because she's so fat
everyone else is prettier
she's not even worth looking at
stops eating for a month
not satisfied with her body
death's knocking on her door
but hey, she's no longer stocky!
boys have been staring her down
lust filling their eyes
it's sad to see that no one else sees
this detrimental disguise
the blood trickles down her forearm
who could be more proud?
but inside she's screaming for help
screaming for help, real loud
she never got a chance to say goodbye
what a bitter taste
but she got what she wanted
and all she wanted was a dainty waist

That girl who locked herself in the room
took out a blade and stained it on her skin

I don't know her anymore

That girl who shoved ******* down her throat thinking that she would be skinny

I don't know her anymore

That one who showed her scars to the ones who cared.
And laughed at their advice because she thought hurting herself was the right thing to do.

I don't her anymore.

That girl who saw herself in a coffin,planned out her funeral because she wanted to die more than anything else.

I don't know her anymore.

That girl who saw only darkness in the tunnel,threw herself in a shell and hid from the world above.

I don't know her anymore.

That one who refused to chase her dreams.

*I don't know her anymore.

the mirror that whispers,
the mirror that shouts,
words of hate
and torture
and spout.
the lies it speaks
are of disgust.
the thoughts it creates
turns 'should stop eating'
to a 'must'.
the mirrors lies are tempting
to try,
but a forewarning ;
the lies will control you,
and they will eat you alive.

my body, the hand grenade
ugly crawls inside, makes a nest.
an animal chained in a cage,
my insect in a jar.

i spit out my ugly. it wasn't supposed to be this way.

life is a simple arrangement
of numbers and measures.
the bathroom mirror under florescent lights
is my sacred altar.
never mind that nothing else is sacred.

my broken body, the hungry child
i give her food, i take it away. i make her cry.
i bleed for her.

she swallows my ache and comes back for more.

Hey you,
I know your heart is hurting. I know you feel like nobody understands. I know you feel alone in your struggle. I know you're tired of pretending like everything is OK. You tell people you're fine, but on the inside you're screaming out for help. While the world is having their silent night, you're having your silent battle. The thought of tomorrow doesn't bring you joy because you feel your best days were in your yesterdays. Your eyes are heavy, but your soul is peace-less. Dreams only hurt more so sleep has become your enemy. Fear drives your thoughts, not faith. The fear life won't get better. The fear loneliness will never leave your presence. The fear your prayers aren't received. Be thankful for your struggle because it's making you stronger than ever. I know you can't see it right now, but you surviving everything you've been through is going to be HOPE for so many lives. This world needs you. Find the FAITH to keep fighting. It will get better. I love you. Victory is yours.

"Rejoice in your sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope." Romans 5:3-4

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you." -Isaiah 43:2

"I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

The peace you're search for, you already have.
-Trent #RehabTime