For my sister who is not biologically my sister.
For my sister who has helped me through so much.
You, the beautiful creature who has time and time again cleaned my blood off the bathroom floor, bandaged my wrists, and stayed up all night to keep me alive.
You, the magnificent woman who gets put down everyday.

For my sister who is not legally my sister.
You, who has been more maternal and has shown me more love than my own mother ever has.
Who has stuck her fingers down my throat and made me wretch up the bottle of pills that I swallowed because I thought they would take me to a place that would make me happy.
You who has loved me more than I love myself.

For my sister who’s favorite type of alcohol is *****.
You who drinks it not because you love the taste, but because you drink it for the punishing bitter taste of it.
You who drinks it to forget your father who never really acted like a father.

For my sister who starves herself every day because her mother told her that she would prettier if she was thinner.
You who is the most loving person I know, that does not think she is worthy of love.
You, the most empowering person I know, who cannot empower herself right now.

For my sister who is currently lying in a hospital bed right now because I was not there for her.
You look so thin and fragile among the blankets and IV tubes. If you were conscious right now, you would say that you look like a lesbian in your hospital gown.
For the teenage girl who has seen more of hell than she has heaven, and still manages to be an angel to everyone she meets.

For my sister who is not in any way, shape or form related to me.
You have been more of family to me than I will ever know.

It's funny how the little things
Like breakfast for dinner
With your best friends
Or playing hide and seek
At ten o'clock
Under fluorescent lights
Can make your life significantly better.
With every laugh
I felt my body smiling
I felt my cheeks reddening with joy
And I felt my soul being warmed
By the best company. It doesn't matter
Where you are;
Fast food at midnight,
Huddled in a seated car,
Sitting on plush carpets next to
A roaring fire,
Talking, writing, laughing, ranting, it's the company,
It's knowing that people trust you
With their secrets,
Care enough to make you smile,
Want you to be with them-
That's what matters.
Saturday night
I laughed until I cried.
For the first time
In days
Weeks
I felt connected-
I felt wanted and loved, and most of all,
For once,
I felt happy.

I am working on freedom
But it's a work in progress
As much as I try and convince myself
I know I'm not ready. Not just yet.

To take responsibility,
For my safety and health,
To pick up a fork and keep down its wealth.
To prepare myself a meal
To allow myself to heal.
To put down a razor and use a different technique
Maybe one day,
But at present I am weak.
To walk innocently
Not compulsively.
To tackle negative thoughts in a productive fashion
One day will be the case
When I have the compassion.
To love myself like I do you,
Will take a long time to do.
To allow myself to make,
An error, a mistake
Without having to dance with my self defeating thoughts
I'm not quite out of those courts.

I am working on freedom
But it's a work in progress.
One day ill be ready. Just not yet.

Write me a meal plan in bright red pain
And tell me this is the answer to all my problems again
Force down a tube through my nose and into my stomach
And watch as I flummox out of control
Fill this gaping hole inside of me
With drugs and sedation
Numb out pain and realisation
Force feed me promises and a smile
Only to regress back in a while.
Fill these cracks
With temporary fixtures
Concoctions of pills and other mixtures.
Treat me with CBT and psychotherapy
Tell me one day ill be free
And maybe if you say it enough times
Ill start to believe it
As much as you say you do.

Twenty classless, eight cigarettes. 
Fighting over the radio at the 
Inpatient Mental Health Facility, 
A broken sense of belonging, 
And a dearth of veggie burgers. 

Listless with his lists, of course. 
Angst from the Anglophile, unable to 
Put a stopper in the pouring, 
Bleeding emotions. 
Open hands 
Stained red, and brown. 
Three breaks a day, scarring his 
Broken knuckles, they paint the walls. 

Code Smoking Gun, 
Code Smoking Green, 
Manic man, loading his shoulders with his 
Father’s burden, too big for Atlas’s arms, 
Or his mother’s shunning palms. 

Three breaks a day, 
Knee, shoulder, hip. 
The coffee’s decaf 
But your calves? Well, 
They’re just sore. 

They dish the brick every 
Other evening. But living, for 
No light, only serves to lessen your 
Love of life and make you 
Light-headed.

Broken beds with rock-solid
Pillows. Three breaks a day to
Remind you of your regression. We
Want you here as much.
Why’re you whining?

Busy doctors bust the doors, thank 
God for the freedom, the 
Fluorescent finish to your odyssey. The 
Flowers and grass greet you in 
Shades of pink and green your 
Greedy eyes hadn’t seen. 
Exhale. Ghost out your grieving.

Your unwell she says
With a look of dismay
I'm fine I insist
Tho the slits on my wrist
Suggest otherwise

Your weight is dangerously low
She tells me
I tell her, my weight is fine
As i disagree
And so commonly as we do
We agree to disagree
But to what degree was
I willing to sink
Before I reached the brink
The breaking point
You need to be here she reminds me
I reply quietly
That this place is for the sick
And me, I am fit.
I am the picture of health
I speak
Tho the weakness in my voice
Suggests quite the opposite
So in silence we sit
And wait
And the clock it ticks
As the minutes pass by
It's okay to cry
She reassuringly speaks
And slowly but surely
Those minutes pass into hours, days and weeks.
And I start to open up my eyes a little
Perhaps even start to realise
That maybe she was right and I was wrong
That maybe that self defeating song
I'd played over in my mind
Had started to unwind me from
The real me, from reality.
That maybe I wasn't quite the person I thought I had been
And that maybe those seems I'd sown
To protect myself
Had actually served in destroying my
Physical and emotional health