Did you ever think we could've been twins? Not like born together. Not fused like the two sides of an oyster encapsulating a precious pearl. No, I mean like the two sides of a mirror. Perfect opposites. Equally opposite damaged from long days of staring and hoping, and laughing and crying. Begging for things to maybe resolve, maybe become clearer. Maybe disappear with the steam of the 2.AM shower in the pitch dark. Hiding imperfections so that maybe they won't exist. I want to look at us both without fear of what I might see.
I want to see the correct way of viewing things and not the enhanced wrongness of a backward reflection. If we are the same then tell me that from your side we are better. That from your side we are stronger. That....just maybe...from your side, I am right for once.

Out it comes -
the feelings, nerves, anxiety
You may catch but a glimpse of what I actually feel,
but I doubt it -
Even I only see the meal.

It's become second nature.
I don't even think anymore,
just to end up doing it more and more.
Someday I'll have to stop,
but for now, I'm kneeling on the bathroom floor.

Since I was littler,
it's always made me cry.
But it's not a luxury, rather a nessecity.
Thinking about it now,
I don't even want your pity.

I keep going and going,
not realizing the pressure manipulating me,
and that in reality - I'm suffering from a disease.
One day, I'll have to give it up,
but right now I'm too terrified to cease.

The hands that are locked inside my body
pull at my ribcage. We'll make you an angel,
they say, but that means
tearing my flesh apart. I beg them –
please, take my brain,
pull it and mould it and set it on fire.
The brain is too precious, they spit,
and I want to die. I want to die
to make myself something else. Something...
palatable. Something that I can chew
and swallow all at once.

Instead, they bite. God, they sink
their seraphim teeth into the flesh
that I call myself. And they digest.

And what of the brain?
Alive, immobile, it waits.
In pain, it waits. Screams.
Begs for release.
But these angels are not from Heaven,
nor do they caress broken bones
once they have devoured.

my skin is a mask
restricting and choking me
as I try to move

As I am Standing in front,
Of my full body mirror,
Mind filled with questions,
"Did my pecks get bigger?
I did 100 of each push up,
And maximum pull ups"
"Are my Abs more defined?
I did 90 minutes of;
Holds, planks, Twists, crunches,
I even did 30 minutes of Stretching and Yoga."

I stand there,
Immediately after doing,
All this exercise,
My Demons ask the questions,
Then pull apart my answers.
Not because they can,
Because we all know,
I let them.
But they attended,
The public school of media,
I'm ashamed of how I look.

So I'm checking.

Maybe one day,
I won't feel the need.

my friends told me
i've lost too much weight
is the mirror lying
or are they?