I own the world
On a silver platter,
It is mine to destroy-
It is mine to devour.
When I'm hungry,
I will slice with silver knives
And scoop with silver spoons.
I will swallow the world whole.
And dab the corners of my mouth
When I'm done.
And everyone will know it was me.

Echoes of yesterday
Where do they end?
Upon the elf on the shelf

Santa has passed
Forsaken my abode
The inner being of my soul

He is the sole provider
My decider
Triumphant tyrant of woe

Must he be my foe?
Glowing with reassurance
Of the personification of hate

I'm a good boy
How about a treat?
It has to be just for me

To eat
Forcibly scarf down
My bitter hole

Santa will want
Me to rake
His' yard

But I will refuse
The suddenly offered abuse
From a passing sore of lore

Loneliness eats me
Like an orange.
Fingernails carving away my skin,
To **** out that juicy pulp of hope
From the outside in.

He called me delicious, but that was lifetimes ago,
Words turning so sweet
They rotted.

I never should have believed him - “I’m
Not just a fruit to be eaten” - that's
I should have told him,
Before these cravings were cultivated. The ones that crawl in
Through the chasms of solitude
Like worms into the pores of my skin.

Because now all I want
Is to be squeezed out
By stronger hands
That make me feel delicious and
Turn my desires
Into the most mouthwatering of juices again.

I love chocolate.
Chocolate disappears fast.
No more once eaten.

consume
rot
the parasite
and the host
eat, eat
feast on decay
eat, eat, eat
i'll feed you, parasite
eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat
consume me

the satisfaction
of numbers dropping at your feet
and the warmth
of nothing in your stomach

s.s

Vision is the art of seeing the invisible
Seeing beyond the pounds of makeup
I smear the goops and snake oils
Onto my face hiding my true self
So I can morph and mold myself
Into whatever ******* society wants me
To be I have an ich I can't
Satisfy because that would
Ruin the hour of miticulous painting
And perfecting I had just
Done to my horrifically
Ugly face
Vision is the art of seeing the invisible
Like when I lock myself in a bathroom
And repent for the caloric sin I
Committed that day
Until both my heart and stomach are empty
Vision is the art of seeing the invisible
Like my invisible tears that I hide in
My heart at the fear of seeming
Insane weak or afraid
Vision is the art of seeing the invisible
Like seeing past the phrase “I'm fine’’
That I seem to repeat over and over
Until it becomes my signature greeting
Vision is the art of seeing the invisible
Like when I glue on a smile for those that
Love me

Weight

Weight
Weight can be heavy
Or barely feel like lifting anything
Weight
Weight is the reason
Anorexic models are
Goddesses in the public
Eye as they strut with
Snapable ankles
Down the runway
Of life
I want to be these
Women
I want their protruding ribs
They're thigh gaps their
Everything
But as I sit
Gawking at the
Fat on my stomach
Face
Chest
And pretty much everywhere
I begin to wonder
Is it worth it
To be toothpick thin
To starve your body of
It's basic primal needs
To wake up only to skip
Breakfast
To ***** out
The sinful calories
To one day never
Wake up and leave
Your family alone
To wake up only
To obsess over
The number on the scale
I shake my head smiling at my reflection
Pulling my shirt down
And limping out of the bathroom
I would eat
Whenever I needed
Whenever I wanted
I have shattered the heavy
Iron chains
Of the goddesses that
Forced me to believe
That my weight
Determined my worth