#ftx
Every ma'am
Is the tightening of a noose
Is the sharpening of a blade
Every shower
Is the collection of pills growing
Is the note being revised
Every she
is a punch in the throat
Is one step closer
One step closer to the end
Because I cant wait to not feel this
But then I get called sir
I get called them
I get called him
And it's one step back from the rope
One pill flushed
One note ripped up
One more day I will stay alive
Because I love that feeling
Nov 17, 2021
Nov 17, 2021 at 6:26 PM UTC
The deepest depths of our lungs
have been deprived of oxygen
for so long
that we cannot remember what is like
to breathe,
deeply and unhindered by
this binder
as the constriction threatens to
collapse the cavity of our chest.
Willingly, we trade our breath
for the exquisite, piercing pain
that we quickly come to associate with
peace of mind
and freedom
because it means the reflection of our silhouette
finally matches the physique our
dysphoria has been telling us
we should have had
our whole lives.
In time, this addiction festers and
we bind longer and more often as
our bodies grow weaker and
our minds more chaotic until,
despite the destruction,
we cannot bear to take them off
and face the truth
written in our curves.
The pain is at one with us now.
We endure, if only to be able to
run our hands longingly down
our flattened chests
as we wait, hoping that,
one day,
we will finally be able to learn
what it is like to
breathe again.
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC