When I was 10 I started to eat too much.
Confusing over indulgence for self love, in an attempt to fill the emptiness inside me.

Every bite was a distraction from the isolation,
Food shopping became an escape from the class room and as i got heavier, the guilt did too. Hanging over me like a shadow that never leaves.

I was 18 when I had the urge, a desire to get it out of me, the answer was to purge.
A teenage ******* a secret mission, this was the result of my messed up cognition.

I think you've become my friend.
You live inside my head, like a second me.
You play games, like you're my only company.
Filling me with self doubt, worthlessness and even leaving me empty like a hallow doll.
You do your job pretty well, existing in me with a strange mission to leave me with all this daily devastation.
You have a home here in me, my mind is a rental space, it's for you.
I know you're settled but you're an unwelcome house mate.
Pack your things and leave.

The devil has an angelic grin
As he holds your hand in secret
And whispers sweet little nothings in your ear.
The devil has perfect skin, striking eyes,
And a jaw that could have cut
Your wrists better than you will ever have.
The devil will write you poems
And speak to you in rhymes,
Fleeting little words,
Just to keep you from breaking apart
So he can keep playing
With your already aching heart.
The devil will come
When you are at your lowest.
He will come
with an outsteretched hand
Promising you heaven on earth
But, he will let go of you
right before you reach the top.

So you pull yourself up
like what humans do
in the face of adversity,
And when
you are on your own way to heaven,
Only then shall you meet your angel

Your angel will not have wings
To whisk you off your feet
And bring you to dazzling sights,
But he will have a smile
Brighter
And more beautiful
Than any scenery.
Your angel will not look how you imagined him to be
all chiseled up and perfect like a Greek statue
But you will not be able to look away
From that crooked smile
Nor tear your hands away
From those coarsely cut curls.
Your heart will be full of his love
And you will feel safe
Perhaps
Even feel heaven on earth

I'm standing at a skyscraper
Numb, Empty, Desolated.
Kissing the sunlight of
The said last twilight.
I took a step, heard bellows
As if someone in distress.
Also a voice, saying
"Take one more step"
I was beguiled,
As I raise my foot, shrieks
There it is again.
I'm intrigue to look,
But it is already too late.
Now then moon is staring,
As the air meets my dermis,
Newton's law is heaving me in.
The last thing I remember,
It is heebie-jeebies' warm skin.
I open my hearing sirens,
Drench with blood, I said
"At last It is now over".

Words that you gave birth from,
Lingers, strolls, talks.
It knew me well,
Even my Achilleus' heel.
Enjoyed the disappointment,
Running through my veins.
They fertile along with crippling loathe,
Making doubts on someones' hope.
Result is him hating the fact that he walks.
His solution lies around ties hanged without floors.

I once went to outer space
I thought it might be beautiful
I thought I might be part of it
But beauty is misleading.

He told me I was safe with him
He said my body was like the stars
And when you’re twelve and insecure
That’s all you want to hear.

Cautiously I trusted him
I stepped outside one toe at first,
I poked my nose just past the door
I grinned at the unknown –

At once
I gasped–
My lungs collapsed.
And body froze in fear and pain.
Lips pursed, he shoved me further out.
“More or else” he screamed.

I cried for Mom.
I begged for home,
My tears solid in the vacuumed space.
But I was told that mothers don’t
Want a child *****.

fingers ice cold
identity pinned on arbitrary digits
spilling the rotten flowers from her insides
counting pumps of panic juice
one, two, three. not enough.
she scrubs until her hands are red and raw.
four, five, six. they're not clean enough just yet.
waking up freezing and covered in sweat,
voice filling up volumes,
feeling every person who has ever
touched her skin.
sitting and shaking in spanish class,
quietly looking up the number of sleeping pills she needs
to get into her wretched body
in order to disappear forever.
craving the feeling of the cold blade on her hot skin
the red ribbons erupting onto her sheets
blinding anger, sadness, grief turns to
physical pain
staring at "severely underweight bmi" girls
scribbling on her injured wrist what she needs
to get to that point. she's almost there.
**** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself, she writes.
**** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself. **** yourself.
one day, she breaks,
dying a thousand deaths as sirens wail
peeling the tape off the IV they attached to her vein
hearing her mother cry
liver damage. severe blood loss. hallucinations. stitches necessary. psych ward? she's convulsing. must be in shock.
finding herself surrounded by broken girls and boys
in a white-walled facility
made for lunatics, just like her.
smiling through session after session until they say,
she's ready.
scraping through as she plans
how to keep the dead flowers just for herself.
months later, finding herself
in another home for lunatics
tiny quiet shaking girls just like her
being fed sugar water through her nose
on her eighth day, saying
a single first word to her therapist.
okay.
sharing a room with a wrinkly zucchini of a girl
turning pink and crying when
the soft soul walks in the room,
finally giving her a beautiful flower to hold.
all her hidden blossoms spilling out of her chest
ugly, shameful plants finally revealed
for the first time in many moons,
she's no longer ashamed of them.
falling in love with the girl two doors over,
erupting into giggles
sneaking around the milieu wearing
rose coloured-glasses,
fingers intertwined.
sitting in a circle of winter girls,
our flowers resting on our laps,
our fingers warmed by
the touch of one another.