!yeH
!meop ym s'tahT
,krow ym s'tahT
.ti elots uoy timda tsael tA

S T I L L
t  a t i  o
o l  s e v
p k   s  e
   i
   n
   g

Here’s where seven people
hung themselves;

The first woman too fat
so she fell first, & fast
to the floor.  

The second too thin,
so struggled as the noose
writhed at her core

A rich man was on the
third knot..

The fourth was
disgustingly poor

The fifth & sixth
were a young couple
Victim to love’s
quarrel  

The seventh that
swung was a bizarre one,
the others saw it too…

On his face wasn’t regret
but a quiet reminiscence of
*** & sweat

"Loosing weight is weird" I think as I stare at my naked body in the bathroom mirror.
I don't feel how I thought I would. My anticipated joy had turned to relief, a burden I no longer had to bear.
My soul has always been chaotic-always waging wars against itself, so of course this too would bring conflict.
The clothes that clung snug to my skin are now too baggy. Clothes I finally felt confident after years of searching for what worked, what didn't, what was flattering, what wasn't.
And now I'm looking up how to shrink everything
And my ******* aren't as full..
sloping and drooping down without being rounded by fat;
like tissues stuffed in a bra that's just slightly too big.
Not to sound ungrateful, because I love this new body (it's an answer to prayer really; taking away the edge of my insecurities) but I suppose it feels a little foreign.
Like a best friends house you practically grew up in: completely memorized in its familiarity; marked by memories, a home away from home, but still not the place you called "home".
And I spent so long learning how to love this body; accepting her flaws, her imperfections, but never quite convincing myself, only to have to relearn again.
And in some ways that makes me...sad?
I don't have another word for it.
Maybe it's a grieving, for the part of me that was a part of me for so long; a part I scolded and criticized.
And I hate myself at times.
Because I was my own bully-projecting my insecurities with verbal lashings.
All because I had this idea that if I was prettier, skinnier, I would feel more wanted and less alone...that it was the missing piece to my happiness.
And the assumed projections of strangers thoughts bombarded me into thinking there was truth in those hauntings,
because somewhere down the line, at an unknown moment in my subconscious, beauty became abundant.
I should get used to this changing skin, because life and age will always be forcing it to keep up, to adapt; It will continue to expand and sag and wrinkle and crease.
And I hope I can learn to love those foreign bodies too, though not so unfamiliar....
                           just unplaced.

A phantom cast where living once dwelled,  
a figure moves under a tight-lipped spell,  
with eyes like stars,
yet veiled in the night,  
an enigma wrapped in soft twilight.  
They whisper in riddles
and breathe in your dreams,  
replaying a moment cracked at the seams,  
each smile is a puzzle,
each laugh a clue,  
leaving a labyrinth of thoughts
to mull over and review.  
As I wonder,
What lies hidden in their empty gaze
and what stories linger in their ethereal haze?  
It is a mystery unsolved,
a moment truly bizarre,  
as they offer a brief glimpse of what they are.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Strange,

how I crave love
and deny it too.

Why the flowers
start to wilt the moment
they start to bloom.

How the warmth
of a fire in winter and the pain
of getting burned remind
me of you.

I got a little book,
A LifeLog I've put
All the aggregated data I can collect.
I buy up every market share I can get
And run my little freak simulations
Where I stimulate all of life
Because I'm such a ******* coward
And obsessed with control.

What started small
Now extends to everyone
Without a concern for your privacy,
In ways wholly unconstitutional.

A wonder a day's old is old
For today's a greater wonder yet
Without asking without knowing
Given if gifted to accept

A vine grafted to ancient roots
Drinks deep beneath the rocky earth
A child tasting strange unknown foods
Knowing not father nor mother

Ever filled with songs ever new
Awakes the dawn with song unsung
From sights seen winged beyond the stars
And joy's complete when mysteries known

Accepting that made not with hands
Needs knowing the Mind not of flesh