Bulimia is a scary thing.
That is a fact.
She'll cradle and choke you.
But she'll get rid of the fat.

Bulimia is a scary thing.
But this is for sure-
The burning in your throat and mouth
Will not be the only sore.

Bulimia is a scary thing.
Late at night when you're alone
She'll be with you
Kneeling at the porcelain thrown.

Bulimia is a scary thing.
Because very soon
She'll have you dreaming
Of being a thinspo.

The toilet bowl is my mirror
I see the monster I've become 
Every time I lose my food
A countdown has begun

I keep breaking promises
I thought that I would win  
But the numbers on the scale
Are
       too
             high
                     to
                         keep
                                 me
                                       THIN

Sometimes I miss it.
The uncomfortable seats and the nervous tapping.
Dozens of eyes staring on through.
The panic in a mother's eyes and
How quick feet left a crowded room.
I'm nostalgic for my misery,
Because I knew it so well,
Because it knew me, too.

Comforting is a tragedy,
When it's one you've learned to recite
Day after day, the same practiced smile
Then bleeding it out by my own hand
Night after night.
I knew my lines well,
I'd known my whole life.

I miss it some days,
the adrenaline of the ER.
I know that it's wrong,
But breaking felt so right.
My demons have mostly gone,
And for that I thank myself.
But if it ever gets too safe out here,
I'll retire to my old bed.
I'll welcome back my old friends
With my hospital bracelet
wrapped around pink wrists again.

Vines swindle & slither along my spine
Clawing & Raking thorns into my thighs.
When will I  realize?
That I am no good, too fat, not thin enough.
I'll wander this Earth, lifetime after another
until I'm emaciated as the rings of Saturn.
Only then will I be thin.

I told you

just the other day

that I wanted to be a movie star

if only I was pretty



you stared into my eyes

and asked if my mirror was broken

'cause I looked straight off the runway stunning

I rolled my eyes

and said stop with the lies

I just want to be pretty



A few days later

I wanted to be a model

goodbye food,

hello gym

I said I could do it if I was pretty



you slapped me so hard

trying to bring me back to reality

but it was too late

she was already controlling me



Two weeks later

I'm told I'm gonna die

if I keep this up

but I want to become a singer

and a dancer

so back to the bathroom

goodbye binge



You took me to the ER

where people stopped and stared

at the girl who would do anything

to believe she's pretty

no one knows pain
like
the ones
who
curse their beloveds
and
bleed their heart
dry


like
the ones
who
watch blood bubble up
from wounds
self-made

the ones
who
fill themselves up
just
to empty it all
in a bathroom stall

the ones
who
refuse their meals
and
live for the scale
because
numbers
don't leave

the crying poet
the bleeding cutter
the vomiting bulimic
the starving anorexic
the lost
the empty
the lonely
the unloved

the ones
who
love too much
and
not enough

no one knows pain
like
humans know pain

knuckles rubbed raw by
teeth so sharp and blunt
a tongue rough and silent

violent retching
self-harm for a throat
already held by a noose

she promises
just

one more cookie
one last bite
one last calorie
one last breath
one

the toilet bowl is her best friend
and she hugs it close
when no one can hear

I have a best friend, a sister really,

So I wrote her this poem, it's nothing silly,

If you knew her you'd know,

She's really pretty,

I mean really, abnormally,

But she doesn't believe it,

She asks why doesn't that size fit,

But I wish she could see,

that she is perfect the way she was made to be.