Rexie was his name,
I met him on my tumblr page.
He's similar to Ana,
but different in a mental way.
I never worried 'bout my weight,
but still he got ahold of me.
He whispered to me "start counting your calories."
I'd eat less and less,
I loved the feeling that came with it.
I googled 'side effects of starving yourself.'
Euphoria.
That's what came up,
I ignored hair loss, osteoporosis, death.
It's like a drug, that's what he said,
Thats how the addiction began.
Always tired,
Brain rewired,
Kilos dropping,
There's no stopping.
Now the vision of the scale plummeting makes me feel something.
Rexie's always gonna be with me,
Maybe soon I'll realise
His goal is to ****** me.
Until then,
I can say,
Rexie is my best friend.

-T

Away from the crowd,
A place I like to call mellow,
A place where the sun's always glowing bright yellow.
The meadow's pear green,
The flowers colourful,
A small opening lies hidden bringing you into a world so wonderful.

Away from the crowd,
Where commotion is no option,
A sweet red cherry is hanging so merry.

Away from the crowd,
Away from all,
A place so serene,
A place so peaceful.

-T

a gentle reminder peeks through the silence,
prompting the birth of light.
the tender whisper of the lone singer,
asking the sun to rise.
a neighbour chimes in revealing his own tune,
starting the daily chorale.
the ensemble awakes the doziest dosser,
with the sound of pure morning life.
-T

I like the moon, the stars and the sun.
When I die all I want is for my body to float through space.
I want to see the moon, the stars and the sun.
Weightless and floating,
Eternally floating.
I want my weightless soul to float through the universe,
I want to see every galaxy,
I want to visit every planet.
I want to see all the moons, the stars and the suns.
Compared to everything,
I am nothing,
You are nothing,
Everything is nothing.

Or maybe nothing is everything.

-T

I love the idea of death,
Knowing I’ll be there soon,
And nothing will be left of me,
Except for an overgrown tomb,
And after many years,
When the future’s comes round,
And my gravestone’s long forgotten,
I’ll lay in a deserted plot,
On a deserted lot,
With lots of grass around it.

Neath the cold and the dark,
Not even a spark,
Of light,
Around my body lifeless.
Nothing left of me soon,
Under that overgrown tomb,
Except lots of grass around it.

-T

What do we call the feeling we get,
That spark in our brains,
The fire in our heart,
The electricity running through our veins
Pumping through us.
We call that passion.
I want passion mommy.
What do we call it,
When passion turns to a need,
That flutter in our stomach,
The beating in our chest,
The obsessive desire.
We call that love.
I want love daddy.
What do we call that feeling we get,
When the passion has burned out,
Far behind our prominent thoughts,
The little voice telling us something isn’t right.
We call that suspicion.
I don't want to be suspicious mommy.
And how about the pain in our hearts,
The ache in our body when that suspicion is right.
When we still feel the love,
the flutter and the obsessive desire,
The want and the need.
But the suspicion was right,
We have to admit it.
We feel every pain we didn't know we could feel,
Our world has been shattered.
We call that heartbreak.
I don’t want my heart broken daddy.
Please tell me I won’t get my heart broken.

-T