It happened again.
How dumb of me to think I could go more that 24 hours without it.
My worst enemy.
My best friend.
My problem.
My solution.
I don't even know why.
It just happened.
I'm so sorry.

I had cookies after lunch
I had it, to tell myself
I could do it
I could eat cookies
and not think about the numbers
I could eat cookies
and not stare into the toilet bowl
I couldn’t do it
I looked into the toilet bowl
Reached into my mouth
And pulled it out
With slow and painful shoves
Though slow,
The way it happens
Is expedited
But it’s not enough
It’s never enough
The inside of the toilet bowl is stained with regret
The inside of my guts are still full of regret
But I cant get it out
It stays
I couldn’t do it
I don’t know when my food
Started tasting like regret
And looking like numbers
I miss how it made me feel
When my parents got me a donut
The smell of the warm bread
The feel of the chocolate between my fingers
I could eat 2 at once
And not give it a second thought
All 2 donuts are now
Is 500
500 too many
500 more of regret
I don’t want to think about the numbers
On the scale
Of my food
The number of scars I’ve painted on my thigh
I’ve never preferred math

When will it stop?
The constant, confusing whiplash
Of hatred
Of acceptance
Of compelled shoving fingers down your throat
Of etching paintings into your skin, with a pointed brush
If only to release
When will it stop?
The hypocrisy of trying to help someone
When you can barely help yourself
Sitting in front of a screen, telling them it'll all be fine
But you have a blade in your hands
And a finger in your throat
When will it stop?
The vicissitude of everyday
Blythe simplicity on one
Slowly killing yourself the next
The good days, I'm able to have a painful relationship with food
Thinking, but not acting
Even if for an hour
For that hour, I am whole and I am free
But the bad days, silent ruminations engulf my head
Of painting scarlet
And expelling
When will it stop?
The compulsions taking over me

fat,
rolls of fat,
skin,
filled with scars,
heart,
about to explode,
hurt,
i hurt,
everyone around me,
im hurt,
'cause i dont mean to,
yet i still do,
i look in the mirror,
disgust is allll i see,
fat, scars, pain,
a pile of rotted flesh,
trying to do the impossibe,
look and feel better.

How gut wrenching it is
To know
How many sunsets I missed
Because I was angry
How many sunrises I missed
Because I was sad
And all the clouds in between
Because I didn’t care

Water’s scorching
Caressing my spine
Wounding me, a thousand hornet stings
Do not flinch
Only move closer
Temperature rises
Embracing the pain
This is how it remains hidden
Out of sight
-my secret to keep

it starts off small
the noise does

the longer I stare
the louder it gets

the hungrier i become
the less I want to eat

i’m worried all the time
like if I start, I can’t stop

if I don’t, then I won’t have to

-it controls my life
and now I’m scared

when I have to
it’s very little

hardly any, to none at all
the trick is always staying busy

the busier I am
the quieter the noise

which eventually fades
in to nothing at all

-the hardest habit to break
is the easiest ritual to follow

one line at a time
more addicting than coke
-i deserve this
this is my punishment
-for my cruelty
my self inflicted pain
scheduled payment
‘tis my debt
owed to karma
she’s more relentless
than a mortgage broker
she knocks three times
-at no specific time
always unannounced
makes herself at home
-so much so
that I feel like a stranger
to my own homestead
-lifelong debt

i am worth less
than dope
i cannot comfort
like an addiction can
i want to purge my skin
from these,
-my bones
throw my head
against a wall
my hand through
a window
why is five minutes of silence
-too much to ask for
sertraline
for me?
to be shoved down
-my throat
like a ratty cloth
down a pipe
an effort to silence
-me, my thoughts, and i