everything i've ever known
turns to dust, spiraling in a
constellation of tremors and
hyperventilation and worry,
so much worry, and every
moment in which i exist i
can feel my heart threaten
to beat straight out of my
ribcage and maybe i
want it to.

"you should eat", said they
"i can't," said i, "i just can't."
irregularly

The spaces between their thighs
signified
the act of vomiting and starvation,
or just really good metabolism
a small appetite
genes
but
considering that their instagram
has no photos of food
but filled with selfies
of their thin legs donning patterns
maybe they have that problem.
But they are beautiful-
I suppose.
I draw them without clothes.
Confidence in a pose.
and I, with my curves,
wouldn't mind to appear like them,
sans *****.
So I eat
and I work.
And I stare in the mirror,
and see the tiniest space
right below my womanhood,
and muscles
closing in
I guess it's healthy,
just not thin.

I met a mysterious man
It was love at first sight

Thought he was charming
Things weren't quite right

He spoke to me romantic
Pure seduction in my eyes

I loved the way he kissed
It taste of such sweet lies

He gazed deep to my soul
He said I was perfection

Yet it was not me he spoke
But to his own reflection

He was a man so confident
Sure no one could disagree

So naive I was for thinking
That you could ever love me

Now I find myself silenced
A little lost book in a shelf

A Narcissist can not love
Except their beautiful self

i am lonely in a
body that has wasted
my skin to paper stretched
against collar bones and
my ribcage won't stop
trembling

i am isolated in a
body which hyperventilates
when it nears all things
sweet or salty or sour
or good because the weight
wrestling in the pit of my
stomach suffocates me

i am alone in a body
that aches for untouching,
unbruised skin and hair so
thick it'll never fall again but
it cannot give that to me any
longer because that would
mean i cannot be sick

i am in a body
that refuses to love me back

I need some medicine
Maybe a pill to take

It's night time again
I still remain awake

So many thoughts
Run across my head

Too much thinking
Will I ever go to bed?

I wish to shut my eyes
Will I ever get some rest?

I probably won't sleep
Insomnia is at it's best

People are not flat and uninteresting,
they are more than their sexuality,
more than their race or ethnicity,
they are more then  their diseases and their disorders,
a person should not be judged based on a single factor of their lives,
they shouldn't be hated for loving a show or finding comfort in reading something you may not particularly care for at all,
people are more than their singular qualities,
People are complex,
People are beautifully and undeniably complex in a thousand bound and unbound wires that knot and twist and turn to form a being,
People are not these things at all,
People are these things as a whole.

to the girl who wrote me asking
me for advice at four o'clock in the
morning when her brain was high
off of an ashy heart: stop
******* around with toxins, and
no, i don't mean the drugs
turning your life into
unwholesome chaos. i mean
your ******* friends who told
you that
your problems are nothing
your demons are nothing
you are nothing. stop
it. you're better than
them.

to the friend who asked
for advice on how to turn
herself into a walking
skeleton: get over
yourself. anorexia and
bulimia will not fill
some hole in your tragic
past, they will ravage everything
good in you until you
are nothing but the flesh
you have despised. do
not ask me how to "become
an anorexic" because all you
are asking me is how
to die.

to the boy who i have
dedicated so many poems
to: god, you are so oblivious
to everything. to the soulless
"i love you"s spoken out of
pity, to the feigned grins, to
the fact that you are ripping
me apart. i was always told
to not love someone
who was sad because they would
drag me to the pit of the ocean
with them, and i should
have listened. there isn't
enough of me left
to share.