I was weight restored
But then
Something happened
I don't know what

I'm back to a low weight
Not my lowest
But low nonetheless
And nobody believes me

I'm asking for help
Begging for help
But even those closest to me
Don't know how bad I'm getting

It feels like
There is no escape
I'm too weak to recover
I'm too weak to survive

I eat
Once a day
But I still eat

Probably too much
The scale sure thinks so

I'm so tired
People are noticing

There's so much lying
So much hiding

I'm done
Nothing is working
I don't want to be here anymore

it dimmed my light
it made me lie
it made me say things
i would've never said
it made me wish that i was dead
summing up everything, i'm barely alive
i'm nothing but a walking frame
i never have anything left to say
all my interests are consumed
by keeping track of my intake
keeping track of my weight
keeping track for my sanity's sake
but that's one more thing to keep me awake
and i don't know how much more of it i can take

Look at yourself

Squeeze any fat you have

A pinch

A handful

How much is too much?

What really is fat or skinny?

Victoria's Secret "Love My Body" campaign shows seven svelte models while Dove's "Real Beauty campaign features an array of 'Real Women' with curves in all the right places 

Both campaigns exclude most body types and show major problems with society

One shows plus sized is okay is only okay if you're plus in the right places

The other proves skinny is king

These are the standards we set for little ones to abide by

With a small bust plus wasn't an option

So I turned skeletons into goddesses 

Prayed the would teach me how not to need

Worshiped hipbones over pizza

A tiny waist over lunch

Anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any mental illness

Yet todays media forms computers in the minds of children to count calories as thought food were merely numbers

I learned how to purge from a pro Ana website when I was nine

Stuck a toothbrush down my throat and forced up dinner

Turned to laxatives at 12

Learned ill was okay if skinny was the side effect

Today I look at myself

Squeeze any fat I have

A handful

A pinch

How much is too much

I constantly


Grapple with the notion


That i want to be so small


                                    My bones seem to be


      Their own showcase

But

       At the same time


       I know my heart can handle that


And i can only shrink so much

   Before

The
  
        
Foundation


Begins  
       
  To
  
Crumble
             With

Me

i will not shrink myself down
i do not come in pocket sized
i am more than your heart desires
yet a  glass has never complained to overflow
i am everything or nothing
and to you
something in between
i am loud and i am violent and i am volatile
reaching for the stars that dissolve in my fingers
heaven has never felt so far
slim down diets are so in
reach your love to fit like chickpeas in your heartless ides
a growling stomach makes a pretty lady
i am pretty much a lady?

i dont know what to do
at this point
i feel nothing
i keep running around in circles
trying to figure it out
but i see the end of this rotary
thousands of miles away
and im so tired
so i cannot reach it

Her body is merely an obstacle
A barrier between happiness and reality
She challenges herself to get closer -
and closer
To the bones that hold her together
Reduced to her ivory frame until her foundation becomes unreliable
Unworthy of the beauty she deserves
She is golden, and her hair is glass
Nothing more than an ornament to be adored
She is hungry for nothing but perfection
To be a thread; bones and beauty twisted into one
Filling her insides with the water she will end in
Finished, she is nothing more than what she has become
Not full or whole
In pieces, taped together after tearing herself apart

I’ve always craved skinny,
The way other fourteen year olds craved their parents *****
I wished for hip bones that could slice me in half
Skinny was always a glowing exit sign in a dark room

Breakfast was 4 glasses of water
My organs floated in my body like trash in the ocean
I didn’t feel full unless I was empty
Which doesn’t make sense
But neither does starving yourself
Yet I mastered that a long time ago  

I still count the minutes after I eat
Food feels like a brick in my stomach
Some days I want to feel my bones more than I want to be healthy

It’s been six years since I first looked at food
and saw only numbers
My bones are no longer accessible
Most days I eat three meals and don’t think about it
Some days I break apart sticks of gum
Dividing 5 calories
Into a full days meal

Some days I want to be skinny
More than I want to be happy
And most days I realized how ****** up that sounds
But sometimes I miss the shipwreck that filled my hollow bones
Sinking organs with no hope against the water I fed them

The goddess wakes,
with purple nails and brittle scales.
She stands,
Knobbly knees like hairy trees outstretched against their seams.
Her steps veer,
Joint’s scream while needs poison her bloodstream.
Her reflection gleams,
There’s something vile about her denial.
She sees,
through a screen but the fog won’t clear.
Blind to her sunken cheeks and pale lips,
to the knives jutting from her back,
that leave bruises like inkblot fiends.
She doesn’t mind,
The constant shakes and extreme regimes.
She smiles,
Don’t worry it’s just a lifestyle.