december is near.
blink your eyes,
december is here.
here come the platters piled high with
sins.
is this really "the most wonderful time of the year'?
god, it all
looks
so
good.
the whispers curl around my ears.
no. no.  fat. calories. crunches. jumping jacks. calories. fat. weight.
the holidays aren't about family.
this is war.
this is about self-control.
this is about my honor.
on goes the lip gloss, the too-big dresses
so nobody notices how fat i am.
"have you lost weight?"
stop making fun of me.
"aren't you going to eat?"
i'm nauseous. lies
i already ate. lies
i'm eating later. lies
don't touch me.
don't hug me.
don't speak to me.
surrounded by sins
calories
fat
bait for their traps.
*just one bite?

All hipbones and collarbones,
Size 1 and 0, long flowing hair and gauges,
thigh gap and flat stomach,
you are beautiful.
All dry skin and yellow teeth,
Size 12 and 13, short, plain hair,
touching thighs and rounded stomach,
I am "beautiful" to everyone but myself.
I will be strong.
I will be stronger.
I will exercise more,
I will eat less,
I will be thinner.
Once I've lost 40 pounds,
then I might get the help everyone says
I so desperately need,
diet healthily
and work with somebody.
Until then, I will suffer through...
...because that shows strength,
and eating shows weakness,
weakness in myself.
Calories should be a foreign substance,
not an old friend,
chewing and swallowing sometimes hurts worse
than a **** lemon-juice papercut.
800 calories over my budget every **** day
when my budget is already too high?
That shows no strength.
500 calories under?
THAT shows strength.
Shows willpower.
Shows endurance.
That is what will make me thinner.
I'm setting my budget to 500 instead of 1000,
because hey,
less is more, right?

My sense of self
is defined
by what I eat
what happens afterwards
and by the scars on my skin
and on my heart
that I was told would heal,
but were meant to bleed,
and by the way you hold me
closely
like I am your answer,
and the fact that I wrote so many words
for my ex-boyfriend that I have none left for myself,
but I seem to have an abundance for you.
My sense of self is defined
by the whirlwind of passing daydreams
and photographs that surround me
and pieces of other peoples' poems...
pieces of my own poems that I barely remember writing.
When the sun sets behind the horizon
cuts through the sky and fades
into starlight and haze
I inhale twilight
and exhale tranquility.
Late night loaded plates
and bathroom trips
early morning cigarettes
and paper cups of caffeine
more sugar than coffee.
Afternoon poetry and photographs
smiles and laughs
followed by midnight bloodshed
and silence,
by my recovery.
My sense of self is defined by
what I love
and by who loves me
by the words and stomach acid
that roll off my tongue
and the heave of my chest
during laughter and after dinner,
by the tears shed by my eyes
and my skin,
the way that I bury my face in your chest,
the toxicity and twilight
that I inhale
the smoke, vapour, tranquility
that I exhale
the popping of my spine
and of alcohol bottles
the hiss of a pipe
and the way they say my dreams
go up in smoke,
I say the smoke spells in the air
the words of my future novels
and poems.

Eating disorders are not always dainty, pretty models.

They’re not sticking one finger halfway into your mouth, to immediately get rid of everything.

Or not eating for one day and losing weight automatically. 

Eating Disorders are not going shopping with your friends and having a good time because you fit in the same size as them.
Eating disorders are laying on the floor of the shower willing yourself to just do it already.

It’s starring at the shower drain for so long that when you finally look up it’s highlighted on the tile wall.

Eating disorders are shoving all your fingers down your throat and scraping your knuckles on your teeth to only throw up an oz of what’s in your stomach— and so you repeat and repeat until your body shakes and your nose burns.

Eating disorders are crying as you look in the mirror because even if you reach your goal weight, you know that it won’t be enough.

Eating disorders are being so weak that you don’t want to go out, all you want to do is lay in bed until your stomach stops hurting.

It’s not wanting anyone to worry, but also wanting to know why your heart gets sharp pains through it sometimes.

Why your head always ******* hurts.

Or why you’re so exhausted all the time, why you fall asleep in class as soon as you set your head down- but when you lay down at night you can’t fall asleep because there are voices screaming at you to do better.

To eat less. 

To weigh less.

I know
I have control
but I don't want to anymore.

I was out of control
in the worst of ways
and somehow
I miss those days.

From my nose,
my lips and eyes–,

strings.

I’m attached to
white.

There’s a nutcracker
in my throat.

I squirm,
go down the drain–,

Slime, slime,
and strings.

Its on my legs,
my chin,
in the smell, the air.

I’m attached to home,
to the lingering
blue
of my favorite room.

If ceramic dolls were
bowls,
I’d mark them all.

there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve

some eat cake with their eyes
while others are busy planning their demise
one wants to see bones, another, headstones

one could love themselves if they were just 40 pounds thinner
"maybe i'll love myself if i just skip dinner"
the other has no appetite, a battle with calories she does not fight

a battle, rather, with herself
to **** herself or stay in living hell
too preoccupied to care what is on the pantry shelf

there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve