all the birthdays i've missed
but all i'll gain

you probably didn't think it was a disaster
with the feeding tube stuffed down your nose,
but it's wednesday, december 27th
and i can't stop thinking about how you are choking on it.
I wanted to believe somehow, that you and your worsening body
would somehow sprout back to life
like the wilted rosemary plant in my kitchen i never stop watering
like maybe this disease you engineered from glass and food and measuring tapes
would remember what you were like before.

when you were a svelte image of a red sun,
tiptoeing through the hairs of broken tree branches
and i wanted to look through them to see you burning
because it made sense to me every time i had to close my eyes
that you were something of warmth and serenity and you were always there
and i was cold and hopeless, lying underneath you
begging for you, or something else to save me

and i still haven't apologized
about how i left you and your pile of dead skin
and how i didn’t even say goodbye
just wandered off, praying and expecting i’d get lost,
but i’ve either forgotten how
or i'm terrified my stutters won't form into words you could forgive.

I don't know which one is worse

I don't know if that's even the worst of it.

its wednesday, december 27th
and i'm thinking about how far you are from me.

and i’m still searching for you in the sky
but i can’t see anything past all the rain.

I’ve always been small.
Height-wise and generally, weight-wise, too.
But for some reason, it clicked in my head that I couldn’t be 110 anymore.
100 was one digit too many.

95 was 5 too heavy.

1000 was 800 too many for a day.

48 hours of emptiness wasn’t enough.

I’ve never been overweight or anywhere near. I’ve been at a lower weight my whole life.

Its never really been about losing weight but I can’t stop myself from making it become a goal.

I’m falling back into bad habits.

I’m wilting. Decaying.

your body is a temple,
they tell me,
but still I do not eat.
it is a temple which I do not pray to,
it is a temple where my insides pray for food,
where my mind prays to feel something,
anything.
so I feed it anything that will plant hedges in my mind,
to shadow the burning house that it has become,
so no one notices and calls for help,
even if only for a few minutes,
but I do not feed it anything which will allow my body to grow,
I have cut down all the trees,
even though oxygen is scarce,
there are factories pumping smoke throughout me,
pollution is heavy,
as heavy as my body feels most nights,
weighing down the earth,
and I am only noticing now,
how hard it has become to breathe.

“You’re eating, again?”
The question stings like a honeybee’s kiss
I smile dryly as I nibble at my plate
You have moved on now
But I don't hear you
“You’re eating, again?”
These words intricately constructs heavy vines
encircling the delicate hand that once held my fork
I smile harder as three words prickles my body
Fabricating a paralyzing smog in my skull
The food becomes unpalatable and my mouth parches
“You’re eating, again?”
I rise and then I watch
"You’re eating, again?”
get flushed in a porcelain bowl
And I feel the familiar swell behind my eyes
And I weep
I weep because I ate again

why must you compare pain
someone can drown in an ocean
while someone can drown in a pond
the point is,
they both drowned

She is "The Monarch" of her own little world
Makeup applied and drowning in pearls
She walks down the halls of a house long abandoned
Regret stays beside her, her only companion
Memories play out like an opera before her
She went for the gold but ended up poorer
One foot is forced in front of the other
Each step an echo of lost sisters and brothers
To protect what matters a wall must be built
Brick upon brick, fear stacked with guilt
Exit the house, exit the dream
Enter a reality of conflicting schemes
Lucky for her she's loaded with downers
Schizophrenics grab both above and below counters
Trembling fingers clutch at the rim
Of a toilet containing this girl's ****** sin
She drowns her pain in colors of joy
Pinks, yellows, purples, to her mouth they deploy
These soldiers are saviors, without them she's dead
It's getting more common, the scream in her head
She tried to fight back but her will was too frail
The going got tough and everyone bailed
But what happens to the general that loses an army
"Perhaps ask the girl that's apparently self harming
For she is a veteran of wars never won
Invisible scars from invisible guns"
Call for a truce, wave the white flag
Nobody sees that the Queen's wearing rags
Somebody save her because God is long gone
She may not be breathing, flame extinguished come dawn
Her enemies draw near, they sense she's grown tired
Dragged not just through mud but also through briars
She can't ask for help with a lock on her lips
Ropes around ankles and chains around wrists
In a life filled with ultimatums, lies and distrust
Ashes are more than just ashes, dust more than just dust
The air becomes pain, each inhale near torture
Her Highness doesn't chase the things that can scorch her
So back into the dream, back into the house
Never the lion but always the mouse
Clean up the pearls and apply more concealer
Confirm the next order with the local drug dealer
A wilted rose with all its petals furled
I am "The Monarch," this is my world.

Have you eaten?
Yeah
Have you?
I can tell when she asks me it grows from love
But I can't help but think otherwise as I curl her hair at midnight
Hugging me one last time before she goes off to meet the man who is made of shadows
I cannot save her
I cannot even save myself

I do sit ups as they lay asleep
I am bone and they are flesh
It's how it's always been
Hiding behind my skeleton while my friends pretend that nothing is wrong
Nothing is wrong
Nothing is wrong

How often do you cry at the dinner table?
Weeping over ever teaspoon of honey that falls down your throat
When will I realize that I cannot craft a new heart out of ash and longing?

I send myself mixed signals
Is the day a success if I eat something,
Or nothing at all?
What about one apple, two apples?
Three?
Am I any less alluring if you cannot see my collarbones stabbing through my neck?
A silent fist fight taking place upon my frail décolletage
Am I less interesting if you cannot see the world through the gap between my thighs?
If there is not even a sliver of space between them?
He can complain I do not eat
She can mother my heart into hunger
It seems to change nothing
Because they are not awake when I am awake
And they do not feel what I feel
An itching sensation in my stomach that causes my euphoria
A starving cry that echoes within my spine like church bells

There are wolves only I can hear
Howling symphonies of hunger and longing  
They sing me lullabies as I lay awake
Horrified at the thought of having to explain to my childhood self that she would one day be afraid of her own reflection

i am not yet accustomed to this world
i want to go back again and make things better
for my heart aches knowing where everything was left
but it is already too late
too many mistakes were made
and i don't think anybody can forgive me
if i were to begin again i would do it right
for my life would have been different.
my life would surely be better.
but i can't
i will never have that opportunity
why? why? why? i am so ashamed
i am so embarrassed
i am so dreading the winter's cold; i will never understand why i do this to myself
for all things born into this world can be happy. so why can't i?
my body is both cold and lifeless as i ride down into deep seas. but when it reaches the bottom i dwell,
and i don't enjoy beauty from my past.
the dark is scary. but it seems to be endless
i will die in pain
i will always remember my past as a great tragedy. and when i crumble, remember, i am sorry