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Empire May 2019
Why do I cry?
What's ever been done to me
Worth a drop from my eye?
I want something tangible
The obvious mark
Of a broken soul
But, alas, mine isn't broken
Over time, it has grown cracks
Slivers and forks in a delicate glass
Now and again, it'*****
By something so powerful
The weakness is revealed
And everything comes rushing out
Through all the fractures
That I thought I could ignore
And it's overwhelming
I can't take it
Mind racing, body paralyzed
Tears streaming, heart pounding
Breath heaving, muscles tensing
And I don't know
Maybe I've had one too many
I've changed inside
Maybe I'm stronger, maybe I'm weak
But I'm certain
I don't envy the days
When everything revolved
Around the fractures
Caitlin May 2019
I have so many thoughts in my head
but none of them actually make sense.
Well, that's not true either.
But I can't figure out the order they go in.
I'm trying to be better.
To love myself harder.
I sing in the shower
and dance in the mirror
but only when its still fogged up.
I smile more in my pictures
and I don't delete the ones in my husband's phone.
I'm making little steps
to falling in love with myself
which is a lot of effort
when I can barely walk as it is.
I try not to hate myself when I break
and binge eat again
but its really hard not to
when I know that I won't eat again for a few days.
And I know its a problem,
and I don't know how to fix it.
I'm just trying to love myself through it.
Ash May 2019
You are a slave to that refrigerator
Rummaging its contents for your self-worth
consolation beckoning from its abundant shelves
You're in a relationship with that refrigerator
insecurely quelling yourself with the emptiness of the jarred-full shelves
You break up, you make up
starve-binge, starve-binge
yet absent in every bite and every purge is your self-love and self-worth
spirits do not hush at the flavor of delicacies
and with every neglected rumble, it shrinks more
your soul is broader than endless contents
and starved for complete contentment
not for empty contents
You mean more than the solid handles of that refrigerator
learn your worth.
Stephanie May 2019
ocd
walk on tiles
not on lines...

this must be just right here
that must be just right there

just few more millimeters
dang! rulers are life savers

walk on tiles
not on lines...

STUPID!

go back to the top!
right foot, left foot, stop

wash your hands, wash it clean
wash til it's bleeding clean

.PERFECTION.

walk on tiles
not on lines...

"hey, it's been a long time, how are you doing ..."

biiiiiiitch, why the hell she's standing on the crack!
blah, blah, blah, whatever boring small talk

hahaha yeah I'm fine :)

TAKE. A. STEP. BACK. NOW. DO. NOT. STAND. ON. THAT. EVIL. CRACK. YOU. DEVIL.

finally, I wonder why most of society
do not educate themselves well to act properly

walk on tiles
not on lines...


good job, self.
good job, self.
Imagine hearing that very very high pitch noise crippling the **** out of you whenever you or someone makes a one, single, minimal, mistake. That's cruelty.
CL Fjell May 2019
Certainly she can come back,
Well I shouldn't say "back."
She's here, but she's away
The train is out but how far?
How far does this train need to go
Before it reaches this station
We desperately wait for her return
Though we see her now,
We wish to see her once more
For my dear sweet Mammaw, I love you
CL Fjell May 2019
Living the life I'm not
Watching the world unfold
A passenger on the journey
To a magical land I call--
Nowhere

Since the day I left
I've never fully returned
Only pieces of who I thought I was
Slowly drifting away from
Who I really am.

When will I find where my ghost is heading?
Days?
Years?
Eons?
Or am I already here, maybe the
Journey ended when I found
I'm not who I really am.
Outside of myself
Hannah Rose Apr 2019
crawl
into my flesh
and sink
into my bones

I want to know
the truth
am I beautiful?
...not yet

I kneel before you
and I bow my head
I reach for the dangling treasure
in the back of my throat

I reach and reach and reach
until
there is blood coating
my fingers

but am I beautiful?
not yet

clammy fingers
grasp an ice cold glass
burning my fingers
but satiating the beast

to be hungry
is to betray you
numb everything
with ice

am I beautiful?
not yet

I can feel you now
etched into my skin
and I feel so paper thin
light as a feather

I look at the bodies
you put before me
and I all I see are
ribs
and
collarbones
and
spines

they are sharp
and my belly heats up
because they are

Beautiful.

and someday
I will look like them
but
not yet
For Ana and Mia
lila Apr 2019
it started off innocent enough
i heard the jokes
stage whispered into eager ears
and the muffled laughter
that inevitably follows
i felt every syllable
claw their way down my throat
i’ve been trying to reach them ever since

i admit this to you
in a body that buries bones
the dull corners not enough
to trigger your concern
no one looks at me and sees empty

seventh grade, twelve years old
i began skipping lunch
because i didn’t need it anyway
4 years later and
i guess i still don’t
this was my first venture
into restriction fueled by insecurity
because with a body like this
no one could ever love me

it’s so easy to say
i already ate
if i word it just right
no one asks questions when i disguise
my madness as magic
step right up! come and see
this body, the greatest freak show on earth
and i’ve mastered every trick in the book
so easy it is now
to conceal the dark magic
while i showcase the light

watch!
i’ll swallow blades and fire
and nothing else
i’ll regurgitate miles of handkerchiefs
in front of your very eyes
so you don’t notice what comes up after

the slight of hand
was the hardest to master
but now i perform it with ease
i can make this food disappear
before you even notice it was there
palm it in my hand
hide it in my napkin
bury it in the trash
where you'll never see it again
aren't you mystified by the unknown?

nothing can beat my greatest trick of all
a necromantic resurrection
of a dead thing
a zombie now walks
among the living
the parasite finally killed the body
it possessed

it latched onto my brain
thrived on my detriment
took and took and took
until there was nothing left of me
i was consumed by something
that was consuming me
this thing
that i've grasped onto for control
has grasped onto me
i've been reduced to nothing more
than my efforts to reduce myself
the parasite becomes the host

i heard the comments
and took them as compliments
gasoline poured onto an open flame
that i can't seem to put out
i thought this fire would extinguish
as the comments morphed to concerns
but that only made it burn brighter
and i'm not sure
how much longer
i can take this heat
shattered porcelain is still beautiful right?

piece me back together
but i'll never be the same
spiderweb fractures across
fragile skin may never fade
but maybe weeds
can still sprout through
i can paint daisy chains across my scars
and roses in the hollows of my collarbones
wildflowers grow
from the inside out
through the cracks in my flesh
and in the valleys between each rib
slow and steady
up my throat until i choke
but that's okay because
at least it wasn't food
i'll swallow bouquets
to keep my starvation in full bloom

the rumble in my stomach
became my favorite song
a national anthem
for a living hell
that brings life to these monsters
if you are what you eat
maybe i can be nothing

i dance around the word "anorexia"
like it's cursed
because i can't seem to admit
that this disease
has devoured my mind
and made every one of my thoughts its own
so i dress my words
in pretty metaphors
and tie beautiful syllables
around my sickness like a bow

but there's nothing beautiful about
hair that falls out when it's touched
and a body racked with chills
in a warm room
there's nothing beautiful about
losing everything
that matters most to you
friends, family
even the ability to have children
there's nothing beautiful
about ***** on your hair
and on your clothes
blood dripping from your nose
or that ache that lies
deep in your brittle bones

this disease is not beautiful
broken isn't beautiful
but darling
you are
4/22/2019
Saint Audrey Apr 2019
Though I see well enough
Lucidity escapes me
Left withering and splintering
In the face of change
In spite of the ending
Something writhes inside of me
A solitary heave
Railing against eternity

But I still cling
To the bits of shade

Every death is unique
As detailed as a fingerprint
I'm still not sure how to communicate
This intrusive thought, it never goes away

Please...
I need is to die knowing
That it wasn't all for nothing
That I gave this life for something

Maybe I've been too detached
Maybe I've been contradicting
Falling fast from what I'm needing
In hopes of finding something real

So outside the mind, enhanced
I see visions of my self
Inside my skull I sit and wait, pondering
If I'm even alive, as eternity
Stretches out before me, but
Nothing scratches that itch
Waiting for a fabrication to take me in
In the days to come...

I'll still cling
To the bits of shade
Who is this young girl,
Thinking she has the right to be in my office?
I pretend to be nice,
I do all the tests,
After all, I can’t risk her suing for neglect.

I comfort her, by telling her it’s stress,
Indeed yes, this is all in her head.
I let her tell me all of her symptoms,
She must be a hypochondriac because how else would she have come up with all of that?
Nevertheless, so she can’t say I haven’t done my job,
I send her for an MRI and EEG,
I also use my favourite words:
I tell her it’s nothing sinister.

I can’t believe she’s wasting my time,
She has anxiety, her brain is all fine!
Now that I’ve ridden her off of my list,
I can move onto to patients, who are actually sick.
She walks in looking young and healthy,
Does she really expect me to believe her?
She’s too young to be sick, and all her tests say are that she needs a psychiatrist, not a neurologist.
I give the advice I’ve learnt from my medical degree, “just get on with life and do whatever you were doing. Go to university, you’ll be just fine! You can’t keep relying on your family forever.”
Poor them, they must be really fed up of her,
She’s just too lazy to make her own food, to get out of bed, to go alone to the toilet unaided.
Yeah, she can still go to university, it’s not like she needs 24/7 care in case she falls down the stairs!

I tell her she doesn’t need those crutches that she uses,
I tell her she’s wrong about social anxiety, although she says it’s much better and I’ve only known her five minutes,
She’s just stressed, her diagnosis is functional.

Six months later her MRI and EEG are normal,
But I already knew it would be,
I advise her doctor to sort her out with a psychiatrist, even though she’s already seen one because I don’t get paid to actually listen to people.
A year later and she’s trying to get another neurologist appointment?
We can’t be having that, let’s make her referral disappear!
She’s told an ophthalmologist she’s having temporary loss of vision, flashes of light?
Who even cares? It’s just in her mind.
She’s chased up how her urgent referral hasn’t be fulfilled in a month,
I guess I’ll have to write her doctor a letter then,
I’ll say it’s just migraine auras because when I saw her she was fine.
She’s only pretending to be disabled,
After all it’s functional so she must be pretty messed up inside.

I’m a doctor so people know I’m smart,
So I get good money,
I don’t need to actually believe my patients and look for things that are not obvious to see.
I’ll make sure she feels like she’s going crazy and will never be helped or believed.
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