I paint daisy chains
On sharp edges
Roses in my hollows
Starvation in full bloom
Is lovelier than death
So I'll throw bouquets
On my own casket
And dig shallow graves
In my tummy
Bury yesterdays love
Resurrect today's doubt
At least skeletons
Are not afraid to die

i always wanted to be a fairy;
to be small,
skinny,
and free
to be able to fly,
soar through the clouds,
and touch the sun

i longed to be a vampire
so i could be beautifully pale,
survive on liquid alone,
and be asleep all day

i wished to be a zombie
so i didn’t have to eat,
so i could see my ribs,
and just rest in peace

i prayed to be a witch,
or a warlock;
make people see me for me,
and see me as a boy

i just want it all to get better

In this new,
internal extrospection,
my out-of heart experience.

I realize who I've been,
what I've seen,
and how I've made myself bleed,
and others too...

I am Sorrowful.
I am thankful.
I am in pain.
I am hopeful.

Flooded by invisible tears and searing pain at the same time,
and even a hidden happiness,

I won't pretend to know.

I won't pretend to show just how I feel,
or just who I am.
Because I don't know.

All I know is,

I am.

Tired...
but Beautiful

Awake...
but Still Sleeping

Alive...
but Starving

Dying...
but Slowly

Eating...
but Not Really

Ugly...
but Pretty

‪Things you don’t say to‬
People who
Suffer from trauma
And traumatic life
Those worlds are....
Spazz
Spazzing out
And spazzed out.  
Say that and you
Will see how ******
The universe really
Is!!!

Nerve damage is
A hell I wouldn't wish upon my
Worst enemy
Six hours of
Constant agony
Sapping my energy for
Anything but curling in the
Fetal position, phone on hand
I can't think
I can't function
Trigeminal neuralga
The most innocuous name
For incurable torture

When I was very young, I started to develop an eating disorder.

I was a toddler. My parent's first child and I went mental when they tried to serve me vegetables.

I would discard them in the radiator and sooner than later a technician was called.

And my parent's were appalled when they realized the reason was that their child refused to eat what she was served.

This continued into early childhood.

I lived with my grandmother who I've called Grandy forever.

She made the same three dishes every week. Macaroni Pie, Rice, or Potatoes.

On the odd occasion,  I would get pizza or pasta.

Macaroni and Cheese, or something else that pleased my taste buds.

I quickly tired of this pattern and a disgust for these meals arose.

I could no longer eat them without wanting to *****.

When I was no older that four years old, my parents tried to feed me a few days or a week old alphageti. That was the first time I ever gaged on a meal.

But those moments came more often than I would like as I grew.

I filled up on chocolates and candy, slices of pepperoni so I wouldn't have to eat the **** I din't like.

This distaste of my Grandy's food turned into a fear of food itself.

I couldn't be experimental, I hated having to eat.

I wished I could just take a pill and defeat the hunger that haunted me.

For years I became anorexic. And not because I wanted too, but because for all that time food was my enemy.

When I was in daycare, I hated sweets of any kind and had never had a sip of soda. But once night when my parents were late to pick me up.

All Dee had was marshmellows and seven up.

I hated the sweet treats that would burn my teeth and the soda that would burn my tongue.

But I was young and no one cared.

I didn't allow myself to eat for several years until I ended up falling in love with a girl who cares.

But some nights when I am drunk and to lazy too cook,

I find myself in the kitchen eating an uncooked hot dog,  

and I remember where it all came from.

I still hate sweets and soda to this day.

But at least now,

I eat.