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.

We grew up together
Two peas in pod
You were my sidekick and I was yours
My one true platonic soulmate

So how did I let this happen?
How did I not know what was
Happening behind the four walls of your mind.
Behind the baggy sweaters that
Were suddenly "fashionable" all year round.

But if I think back carefully
Maybe I didn't miss it
Maybe I just ignored it

Ignored how when you got back from your
Summer in France the snug hoodie I gave you
Was no longer very snug
But rather hung like an ornament
On the thin frame of your body

Or how your legs began to resemble sticks
With a thigh gap most girls would die for.
Maybe I should have known the first time
You refused to eat your favourite ice cream
(chocolate mint chip) because calories!

When you told me you were in hospital
You said you were sick
But not in the way I thought you were
Because you didn't have chicken pox
Or pneumonia or bronchitis
You were sick in way that was much more twisted
You had a sickness of the mind
One that toyed with your thoughts
And messed with your sense
Until your body was wasting away.

I must admit at first I was angry
Because how could you keep this from me
I was your best friend and
You never told me your biggest secret
However then I was shocked
I could not understand
how you were in so much pain
And yet I did not know.
How had I cried for months
Proclaiming pain and suffering
That I believed no one could relate too
And yet here you were
Silently proclaiming the exact pain .

Mind explosions
Of a different kind
They come unexpectedly
Freezing the unconscious mind

With nowhere to run
It is impossible to hide
A terrified hostage
Of the demons inside

Victimized at night
Praying sunlight brings a reprieve
Desperately seeking distraction
From memories one cannot believe

Unknowing of what to do
Unsure of who to trust
Confusion rooted in fear
Is a tumor primed and ready to bust

I don't

2. Think I will

3. Ever stop

4. Counting

5. But I can

6. Learn to live

7. Around the numbers

Tear, tear, tear.
Spend classes tearing paper into tiny bits.
Why do I do it?
(Tearing until my fingers hurt.)

Count, count, count.
Almost run into people every few minutes.
Why do I do it?
(Count my bones whenever I can.)
(Count the steps on the stairs when I ran.)
(Count the steps I take and how many breaths I draw.)

I am aware that everyone sees me,
counting and tearing and restarting,
and I don't want to stop even though it's not with a degree of panic.

Check, check, check.
Check so many things again and again,
but not the things that are really important.
(Check that everything's not changing or if it is.)