i. hunger
It starts with the want
to fill the hole in my soul
that anxiety has chipped away at
with the only reliable thing
that will make me feel good
food
wonderful, instantly gratifying
food

ii. consume
Chocolates and junk food
or spoonfuls of ice cream
and a brownie
desserts that top off a Sunday brunch
push away the thoughts that say
this is a horrible idea
and feast!

iii. sickness
My stomach begins to churn
my chest gets tight
and I feel like emptying
my stomach
my mind
my life
regret attacks my stomach and mind
karma for the horrible decision
I made
junk food hates me as much as
I care for it

iv. guilt
My stomach is a bloated planet
my thighs its insurmountable mountains
look what you have done?
you fat idiot!
consuming and consuming
soon your body will make you unloveable
I try to empty my stomach
bent over pristine porcelain
sweat dripping down my face
desperately googling for help
to hurt myself

v. aftermath
Three-digit number
I’m too ashamed to speak it
but I feel the numbers
imprint in my mind
with a note
stop eating as much as possible
so guilt follows every meal
every moment spent in front of a mirror
is an inspection
bulging thighs
flabby arms
stomach barely contained
how do you show your face in public?
a binger too afraid to purge
when will you finally feel guilty enough
to take action?
these thoughts stay in my head
until the next binge
then they return again

aimless

i need more,
i crave it from my core.
the very essence of my being
spends every waking moment screaming
lost in a world so uncaring
where everyone just stands, staring
as i roam aimlessly.  
with no where to go, i painfully
shoot the pills back with liquor,
sit and wait, suddenly feeling sicker
breaths fading, heartbeats passing softer
living each day just to **** the monster

the two of them
attached at the hip;
inseparable.
how strange to be
such opposites,
yet forced to live in the
same prison.

one was an insomniac, while the other slept 16 hours a day.

one was confident and able, nothing could bring her down.
the other faulted inside herself, with arms stretched above her, begging for a way up.

one was flowing thoughts and new ideas, with an unconscionable amount of energy.
the other thought obsessively, always in the negative, lacking the ability to even speak most days.

one was a stomach full of butterflies, terrified at the thought of dying.
the other spent her days, chest aching and empty, begging for each one to be her last.

so tell me, how do astronomical
glow
and insufferable
darkness
coincide accordantly?

they simply don’t

with each constantly afflicting the other,
the small prison in which they inhabit
is collapsing
falling into itself
soon to dissipate
until nevermore

Dear Madolyn,

God ******
Shut up
you obnoxious piece of crap
Get your brain to work
keep your problems to yourself
because no one really cares
The more you talk
the more you grovel and complain
the sooner they’ll want to leave
don’t you see?
Why haven’t you realized
you’re charity work
beggars aren’t choosers
so stop demanding love
Stop opening up so quickly
you’re too quickly won over
don’t you realize no one wants
a broken girl who will be friends with anyone?
Take words with a grain of salt
as so many people have lied before
you’re incapable of effective lying
so being quiet is the better route
A word of advice:
Be idle and passive
Tell no stories, just listen
Use your house and dogs to trick them
so they’ll want to be around you
Use grades instead of a personality
to win people over
since that personality and face of yours
is something nobody wants.
Remember what I’ve said
anytime you begin to text someone
or if you decide
to open your mouth

Love,

Your insecurities and fears

Hmm, what’s that smell?
I’ll follow it through the house.
It lingers wherever I go,
Perhaps it’s me.

I recognise that smell…
The sickly stench of failure.

What’s that sound?
I’ll follow it through the house.
It rings in my ears wherever I go,
A tinny, shrieking laugh.

Of course,
It is the sound of cynical laughter.
Mockery.
Every second of it impaling me.

What’s that darkness
At the edge of my vision?
It is creeping further in.

Of course,
It’s the blinding death of guilt.
It is the poison that seeps throughout
My every cell.

I cannot see,
I am choked, unable to breathe,
The sound, it deafens, it deafens.

The floor is colliding with my knees,
And my vision is running away.
My ears are being crushed into my head
By my hands,
In a desperate attempt to shield them.

But the thundering howling overdrive
That my senses are in…
It is melting me from the inside.

My body caresses the floor,
Slipping…
My hand curls away from my head,
Falling.
My vision keels over.
Darkness.

And my nose breathes in the last breath of failure,
As it rattles into my broken lungs.