My sanity has been rung out like a soppy washcloth.
The only thing worse than the quick glances and glares is
not knowing why.  Headphones can only drown out so
much and I begin to wonder how such beautiful melodies
can now haunt me to the point where the chords of “O Holy
Night” stab me in the stomach with rusty knives. Somewhere
I was once so proud to call home is now my personal hell
without any rationale.  The snow resembles the ashes of my
soul as I follow the path along what once was green.  The
frozen puddle on the cracked ground reminds me that it’s
hard to loathe the eyes that look back into my own.  No one
ever tells you that two plus two plus a few more equals one.
Words weigh me down and suddenly I am immobile.  I swallow
each thought one by one until I run and collapse over the toilet.
It’s such a shame that no one gives a **** until you’ve hit the
breaking point.

I felt invisible the last time we were together. You
chatted aimlessly with your friends about the game and
the people and the classes you all despised.  I clenched
my teeth as I held back tears from the loneliness in a packed
gym and as loud as it was I swear all I heard were my own
thoughts.  We left and I acted only slightly disappointed in
the fact that I was never introduced and you apologized.  The
streams of water finally burst through as I closed my eyes in
the passenger seat of your beat-up truck and I blamed it on
the anxiety and it is true that I couldn’t help it.  No one ever can
control when they feel lonely and when they feel loved.  We
pulled into the restaurant parking lot and I apologized for
my uncontrollably erratic emotions and you kissed me.  Your
embrace and kind words reminded me that it was all okay.
That it was just a hiccup.  That I would always mean something to you.

And that was our last weekend together.

so as of next week i will be starting my first year of college in a town too far away to come home for an evening and people keep telling me about the “freshman fifteen,” its inevitability, like i dont know how to live alone and the response to that is somehow gluttony. i dont think people realize how good i am at not eating. my digestive system still hasnt forgiven me for when i was sixteen and liked the taste of anorexia. no one ever talks about the fact that apparently part of recovery is running to the bathroom twenty minutes after every meal and having to stay there for twenty minutes after every meal because once you stop eating, your stomach stops holding anything. your intestines start making up for lost time. and it’s gross to say it but it’s something i live with and in reality the symptoms make me want to just stop eating again. there’s a reason i didn’t get the biggest meal plan. maybe i’ll start working out again, because that always helps make me forget that im missing dinner again, because thats what i did last time. i dont like the way people talk about the “freshman fifteen” because they dont know what i was like when i was sixteen. they dont know how good i am at not eating.

A college in Mexico with axioms lust
those lines on faces did entrust
a river at the horizon
when there was tea ground from leaf
there on vacation why she enhanced parlay
my sojourn would last today
and glory was in this backseat
she ready did *** her mind with me.  
While her lowrider really ran so grand
there a nest of hill myna together
a divine incline cropped her china
and while I toasted her varietal grape.