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1.4k · Sep 2014
Hidden in plain sight.
Tara India Sep 2014
My illness is in my eyes:
Do not judge me by my size
Or the normality of my thighs

My demons live in my heart,
And show themselves in part
In my all-consuming scars

But just because I seem fine
Don't presume I'm happy inside,
Or that I'm really alive;

The darkness lives within
My pale and common skin,
Driving me to destructive things

My faltering smile should be
Some clue to what haunts me;
Do not believe that I am free.

You'll see me eat and laugh,
But positivity will never last;
My sadness is not in the past

Eating disorders are not skin deep,
For when I'm tired I cannot sleep
I have many secrets to keep.

*© Tara India
absolutely sick of people assuming I'm not sick because I'm "not that thin" - mental illnesses are inside.
1.4k · Oct 2013
unsure.
Tara India Oct 2013
sit, to a ticking clock
numb bones, aching joints
a drumbeat heart slowing
living in death and decay

eyes pour synthetic love
and fear, while my
dreams rot in my skull
losing my mind each day

should be working, reading,
writing something with real
meaning, instead I am
living in death and decay

structure falls, missed lectures
since I can't focus or
even pretend to understand
losing my mind each day

getting into trouble, again
and again I fall into this
silence and paralysis
living in death and decay

how long before they notice
I am not really here,
I don't exist, and never did
losing my mind each day

insanity, unreality hangs
on every wall oozing venom
that stills my heart
living in death and decay

dying is no art when I
should be becoming something
beautiful and alive
losing my mind each day

failure, drop out, weak
poisonous words and I
am giving in, giving up
living in death and decay
losing my mind each day

*© Tara India.
1.2k · Jun 2014
rock bottom
Tara India Jun 2014
I thought I'd hit rock bottom when
I was sixteen and blowing my mind
When I was seventeen and
My weight was that of a child
I thought I'd hit rock bottom when
I drank for days on end to seek
A piece of mind that never came
Losing my innocence by the week
I thought I'd hit rock bottom when
My closest friends were blades
And I lay in a hospital bed
After taking too many pills again
I thought I'd hit rock bottom when
I spent hours holding my head
Over toilet bowls, or when
I prayed to wake up dead
I thought I'd hit rock bottom when
Laxatives ate my money and
My body and I let visions of
Maddening girls take me by the hand
But now I see I had further to fall
I had more to lose in you
Now I can't even take those actions
I have nothing more to do.

*© Tara India.
1.1k · Nov 2013
fearless
Tara India Nov 2013
i'll walk alone at night
through the wrong side of town
i'll step in front of a car
not care as i am almost run down
i'll drink until i fall
and wake up in some stranger's bed
i'll pollute my lungs
with tar and nicotine and dread
i'll let you throw your knives
as i graciously walk the line
because there can be nothing
more terrifying than my own mind.

*© Tara India.
1.1k · Nov 2013
cravings.
Tara India Nov 2013
no abnormal  amount of sleep could cure
the tiredness that rests inside my bones
fatigue fills the hollow cage that
dreamlessly becomes my hellish home

no obscene quantity of food could satiate
the hunger residing in my soul
my heart is empty, craving for something
adventure, fire, or the great unknown

no blinding light could truly dim
the shadow living inside my mind
whose darkness overthrows all I do
drowns my pleasure in endless night

no sins of the flesh and gloried closeness
could still my desire for intimacy
to just be held, finally feel wanted
and like I mean the world to somebody

*© Tara India.
1.0k · Mar 2015
The urge to disappear.
Tara India Mar 2015
And maybe I should be scared of passing cars,
strangers in the dark, but nothing scares me
like the black hole I carry around; the endless
static in my mind and the desire to completely fall;
I'm walking, I don't know why, and it's like I think
placing one foot in front of the other and covering
mile after stupid mile will make the darkness
fall away from me; as if I could ever outrun it.
The cold bites, I can't feel my hands, but that
aching pulse reminds me I still have blood flowing
through my veins, I am still alive however dead
I may feel. Clenching, curling my fingers until the nails
sink into dried skin, to stop myself beating my limbs,
longing to see bruises blossom; sprays of dark
flowers that again prove I am not merely a corpse
reanimated; endlessly pounding darkened pavements
as if I could tire myself enough to sleep easy;
more fear for the way I feel my mind splintering
than anything that might get me, nothing could
ever terrify more than the midnight delights,
and wishes of such a broken mind as mine.
Home holds no comfort, staying still only
makes me feel sick: I want to run away but I can't
think of anywhere safe, friendly; where could I
ever go? Take me somewhere new, I'd rather be out
of place somewhere I've never been; I long
To pack a bag, catch a train, to travel
under the rifts in the sky until I find somewhere
that doesn't make my stomach churn. Now
I find myself heading for home, my legs are lead
and the cold has infected me, but still it
is easier to take than the urge to run, to jump,
to fall, fail and let the world consume me.
They promised me a fight, I know: they said it
would get infinitely worse first, but nobody
understands the crushing waves, the hours
so forbidding and empty; the scent of
some impending doom on the rain-blushed wind.
How can I ever hope to walk far enough,
fast enough, to escape this hell on earth?
1.0k · Sep 2013
detachment
Tara India Sep 2013
she hears the real voices
through papery walls
and they dim
paling in comparison
to the screams
in her head

she sips the coffee
the scalded tongue is
nothing anymore
because at least she knows
that she can feel
something

the sizzling pan torments
with its calorific air
and normality
as she hears the real world
and sinks further
into her nightmares

from behind a locked door
with curtains drawn
she listens, hides
and is brought to tears
by the fact she
cannot join in

she cannot let go
let herself relax when it
is all or nothing
so she drifts and hopes
that everyone will
forget her

she thinks 'why must i sink
under the waves as
they all float'
truthfully she held her breath
and herself under
to escape

she'd like to be like them
she craves their version
of reality
hers is so tragic and
she is sure it
will **** her

*© Tara India.
966 · Feb 2015
Wish you were here.
Tara India Feb 2015
I never thought I’d apply these words
to anyone who wasn’t her;
maybe it’s even a success that I
can say her, because she’s not the one
that matters to me anymore.

I never thought I’d want anyone else
to hold me, or be the first
slow thought in my drunken mind,
but it’s you now, it’s you my angel,
it’s you I’m holding on for.

You say I’m beautiful,
well beauty is only skin deep. I’m not
half as beautiful as you because
you saw something worth saving
in me; you saw more

Than some broken-hearted
girl. You saw more than cuts and scars,
than crying, trying to get through
the aching days; I’m longing
and it’s you I’m longing for.

I’m counting down the days now,
until I can see your face;
I pray when our hands touch,
our minds will connect and it will be
more magical than before;

I think you are more human, more
wonderful and more real;
I think you know what you want
and I could finally live with you.
I’m wishing to my core

That I could kiss you; I never
thought I would feel this again --
the rushing blood, the dreams of love
and hope and I wish you
were here; it’s all I wish for.
954 · Nov 2014
Love will tear us apart.
Tara India Nov 2014
Although I long to be held so tight
I see stars; and your arms at night
Could hold my pieces together
Could patch the cracks, keep me
Afloat and standing, shakily
I cannot ask you for forever.

Do not hold me like I want
You'll cut yourself on my hipbones
The razors; my chest would bruise
You as you try to fix me now
Do not love me; I'd pull you down
I could not ask you to lose.

I long for your arms, I miss
You giving me life with your kiss
Breathing fresh air into my lungs
Expelling the poison I hide within
I'll burn you, hurt you, if I begin
To steal your life just to be young.

Although you want to save my soul
And piece me into something whole
Do not caress me as I crave
I'll ruin you; my bones are sharp
There's a hole in my stuttering heart
Maybe we should go our separate ways.
931 · Sep 2013
Turning points
Tara India Sep 2013
wake up, crystallizing
you're hungry,
but not for food --
no never that
maybe for love, or people
but isn't needing weak
and you don't
need

wake up, realizing
you're tired
of life, of this fight
now wonder
how on earth
did you end up as
this girl --
broken

wake up, determining
the exact lifespan
of a shadow
or shadow girl
and how many years
before you fade,
in the morning light,
vanish

wake up, admiring
those who truly live
who walk
talk, eat and smile
tell me --
wouldn't you like
to be that way
too

wake up, cannonising
models
everything you'll never be
and that you want
but someday soon
you'll have to let
it all fall away
grow up

wake up, fantasising
of satisfaction
without the guilt
and pain
of not starving
not relying on hurt
letting people
care

wake up, promising
a new start
the sun will rise
and you with it
you'll eat
talk, breathe in
the summer air won't
burn -- is this
it

wake up, reveling
in knowing you haven't
sunk -- aren't
giving up
follow the plan
cut loose
your puppet strings
be real

wake up, deciding
it is time
accept your scars,
be better
but is this true
can you, or
is this just another
false dawn

*© Tara India.
to recover, or to relapse? are my promises real or just breaths of air?
911 · Nov 2013
insomniac
Tara India Nov 2013
waiting, counting, the hours are rhythmic
timed and passed by the slow bruising
of dried-peach skin to sick blackcurrant
ringing metal beats out the hours I'm losing

although, is my time gained, as others are
sleeping; immune to the gloried stars
swimming in my eyes, and one more blow
eyes closed, mind draining to the dark

I see the dawn in all its false hope
out of step and keeping my own time
dullish aching through bones to heart
with sluggish veins powering a body's decline

sickness is sick; I am not in health
nails blueishly giving away my failure
to guard my sanity, its repercussions
leave me lying broken, bent, impure

tear-stained minutes tick disjointed
I'm underwater: airless, trapped
around me they fly, I sink, I die
now watch me fall off the inky map.

*© Tara India.
869 · Oct 2013
this girl.
Tara India Oct 2013
thousands of lost souls screaming at the dark
that lives inside their minds
and wishing someone could draw them out
of their lonely heads and this broken time

even the simplest action becomes an ordeal
a herculean task to those who are
living perpetually in fear of all
the things they see and everything they are

if you have never lost your senses
to sheer paralysis over food, or going out
you cannot understand how terrifying
life can be, or how it drags so many down

we live in the depths, an exclusive hades
this circle of hell exists on earth
heaven and stars become a rich pipedream
we lose all idea of love and elusive self worth

an illness so isolated, this disease
god I wish something was wrong with my body
that could show what makes me so insane
instead of a perfectionist need to be lovely

an innate detachment from others
the people who know how to exist
in happiness, who dream of real things
who when they die will truly be missed

I am not here, not real, I wish I was
not a shadow girl, the ghost at the bar
lost in a lonely heart and finding salvation
wielding a blade and creating ugly scars

making pain replace love and true feeling
so that everything translates to fat
and I can't possibly enjoy anything
and open up, I'll never be like that

withdrawal and dissolution reigns until
this girl gets help, gets locked up
gets shown all the ways in which she is sick
god, I wish I had never grown up

*© Tara India.
I wrote this while I was drunk the other night: why am I so much more honest in the darkness while intoxicated?
859 · Oct 2013
starving.
Tara India Oct 2013
fragile yet bulletproof
a doll, china-glazed
wrapped in barbed wire
steel claws, my iron gaze

through the blackness
the magnetic ground
starry-eyed; it's tempting
trying to pull me down

with lead weights tied
to my dragging heels
god I wish I were strong
and didn't have to feel

mind wired on chemicals
and caffeinated veins
blood clots, racing heart
I think I'm sick again

counting the hours in
bites of empty air
ghosts crawling to my ears
nestling in brittle hair

I'll have to stop soon
I'm hunger-drunk, dying
high on pain and
so done with trying

baffled by so-called normal
those machines that refuel
on fat, sugar, calories
it's so ******* cruel

that I was born to howl
at a midnight moon
to live in shadows, knowing
my life is ending soon.

*© Tara India.
I haven't eaten in 42 hours.
840 · Aug 2014
for when you are sad.
Tara India Aug 2014
the sparkle of your dove-grey eyes
is lost in those tears; do not cry,
for nothing good happens at four a.m.,
nestle, wait, the sun will rise again.

star-spangled blackness is only
worthwhile when it shrouds dreams,
so wipe your cheeks and dredge up
a smile; find some self love

even if it is only in shreds --
I promise you're not better off dead.
it only seems so in heavy night,
star-child, you are far too bright

to let yourself be crushed or lost:
though easy, defeat bears a cost,
so pull up a laugh, and those covers;
do not weep for past or present lovers.

do not give your mind over to pain,
believe me, you are not to blame
for all the wrongs upon this world,
you are no god, just a heavenly girl,

so don't give up; soon the morning
will rise, a new hope is dawning
every day: will you seize this one
and shed the fear of what's to come?

please ignore as the voices wail
that you were only born to fail;
they're liars, with no life but
what you give them, don't give up.

so go to bed, comfort is allowed,
tuck yourself in, darling i'm proud
of you; one more day you've survived
and against all odds you're so alive.

*© Tara India.
836 · Aug 2014
Living or existing?
Tara India Aug 2014
Is it really a life, what you are living?
A slave to numbers and hate,
Turning your body into a machine,
A strange reflection of your turmoil
Tell me, is this really a life?

As you count your grapes into a bowl
Are you really feeling satisfied;
Or as you sit at home denying yourself
The pleasure of company,
Tell me, is this really a life?

Pounding feet matching the stutter
Of your heart, and the blood that
Runs sluggish in your skinny veins
As you run yourself into the ground;
Tell me, is this really a life?

Talking more to the voices inside
Your head than your old friends
Carving away at your skin;
Destroying what little of you is left
Tell me, is this really a life?

Or blindly chewing and swallowing,
Knowing you’ll hate yourself
But needing to feel, comfort is sought
In the numbness of food;
Tell me, is this really a life?

As the inevitable urge overtakes
When you’ve lost control:
You failed, you’re weak and now
As you bend over the toilet bowl
Tell me, is this really a life?

You never stop to think, well maybe
You dare not: you’re haunted
By the idea your time is wasted
So you are wasting yourself
Tell me, is this really a life?

*© Tara India
I found myself asking all of these questions to my reflection at 2am; am I truly alive when my eating disorder takes up so much space?
823 · Dec 2013
the others
Tara India Dec 2013
they're all just tired of her
twisted games her
silly need to be wanted
and desire for destruction
that leads them all
into hell's fire and
inflames their souls their
hearts are in fractions

over a crazy girl who doesn't
even care or even know
what she is doing
she is too busy getting high
breathing in life and
feeling unstoppable or
sometimes unapproachable
sometimes she wants to die

she is tired too of her broken
mind and its broken
thoughts which drive her to
actions so irrational
that hurt those she loves
those around her who
tire of being there to care
when she always falls

every week or every day she
becomes a crisis and breaks
into shards only held
together with her madness
by starving and purging
by cutting and crying she
remains alive in one piece
despite her sadness

but those around her are now
exhausted by her drama not
able to take another day
they love her but they must
say goodbye before she
burns them out like her own eyes
her own soul is dead now
she is alone with her disgust

for herself and her own corpse
maggot-ridden and sad
she is left to mourn those
she swore she'd never miss
she said she didn't need
anyone or their condescenscion
and help but now alone
she doesn't want to be like this

*© Tara India.
807 · Sep 2013
Cut
Tara India Sep 2013
Cut
and i tried to cry, but i could not
for my tears had already been shed
in blood: five fine lines
that weep and wail underwater
into paper and cloth and
steal emotion from my dumb eyes.

*© Tara India.
760 · Sep 2013
false romances
Tara India Sep 2013
there is nothing romantic
or tragically beautiful
about wasting away

my sadness is not poetic
my scars are ugly
and so are shining blades

in cracked skin i find no art
no admirable trait
in learning to die

bathroom tiles hold no appeal;
you shouldn't look at me
and find me lovely

broken skin and broken minds
are not unfixable
but shouldn't be desired

being sick is not being fragile
not fire escapes at 3.am
or tears that fall on lovers hands

not bambi eyes and bones
but a complete loss
of all humanity and all identity

demons curl and the void yawns
the one inside your soul
and you have no love, no body, no name

when your mind is sick
every day is a curse
and it is never romantic

*© Tara India.
so many people call mental illness poetic, romantic, oh-so beautifully tragic and sad, but it is not. really you live in hell, and nobody is going to come along like in john green and save you, nobody will kiss your scars, you just lose everything you are until you decide to discover yourself again.
756 · Nov 2014
Turmoil.
Tara India Nov 2014
What to say when I've been tearing up my skin
To match the voices that have torn me within
I'm confused at how to really explain
That staying alive requires a dose of pain
Anxiety rips through me like a storm
And I thank the gods I was forewarned
That the plan was born over a day ago
And though I can't fight I can let them know
And my safety can be removed from my hands
I pray I find someone who understands
As I sit bleeding and shaking and broken down
Why I am unable to turn my life around
All I see these days is a cavernous hole
Gaping and pulling and tormenting my soul
I don't know how to convey my feelings of doubt
Of how I can only see this one way out
How I can't see a future or anything ahead
And my mind races and wants me dead
I can't see myself ever really living
When this cold light is so unforgiving
I don't know what to say so I stay quiet
But don't presume there is calm in my silence
Don't assume I am okay when sitting still
I'm planning and I'm treating with devils
Selling my soul for some kind of relief
The scratches and hunger are no release
Not really or at least not good enough
Why do I feel so undeserving of love
So worthless each and every day
I suppose that's why I can't change my ways
Why I feel as though I'm dying inside
Why I see my only option as suicide.
I found this, written in the week leading up to my last attempt, and it made me so sad and scared.
754 · Oct 2013
Slipping.
Tara India Oct 2013
and on my breath last night's whisky
stale smoke and stranger's mouths
drunken words fuel the fire and
the knowledge inside 'I am going down'
the promises shattered in the mirror
silvered glass and steel-edged knives
the demons drag at my heels and how
did I ever think I would be alright?

*© Tara India.
I am currently in a full-blown relapse. I am killing myself slowly, but I can't stop.
731 · Dec 2013
17.12.13
Tara India Dec 2013
and i did not conquer
the demons
that live inside my head
or the devils
that walk with me
i loved them instead

so i became obsessed with
joining those
i adore as my own ghost
the ethereal
the deathly is what
i dream of the most

now i have grown into
beautiful fantasies
of blood and eternal sleep
the desire to die
to free myself is the
greatest secret i keep

i slowly doubt the efficacy
of living and
breathing as others do
my lovely shadows
my best friends
i am coming to join you

*© Tara India.
728 · Nov 2014
Fear.
Tara India Nov 2014
Everyone I know was afraid of dying
They feared cancer creeping silently
And they kept their doors locked at night
They feared strangers in the dark
Or burning themselves on the stove
But I did not fear what they did.

In the early hours I feared living
I feared waking up for another forty years
The shuffling inadequacy of the nine to five
I feared truly being a woman
And I feared never being good enough.

So I turned myself over to darkness
I let faceless demons replace my heart
I burned and bruised to feel something
I made my body so scarred and ugly
That nobody would dare touch me.

I feared sugar more than death
And sleep more than fire or water
I do not fear speeding cars
Instead I fear breathing deeply
And watching another day unfold.

I did not know that I was wrong
That I was reckless and unstable
I was scared of my own humanity
While others were scared to lose it
And somewhere down the line I forgot
How to feel well because it scared me.

I am more scared of oil than I ever
Was of starving myself to death
I feared my own blood far less
Than the hands of strangers and now
My medicine is harder to take than drugs.

Everyone I know is scared of drowning
While I am scared it wouldn't be enough
To clear my soul and purge my body
I am scared I would still be living
Even after forty pills and alcohol
I was scared of this life more than its end.

So when I lay in a hospital bed
I was not scared that I would try again
I was scared I would fail again
And now I am free I fear losing my mind
Because they would lock me up
Yet again to keep me alive.

Now I am free I do not fear dying
I fear being left to struggle alone
I fear a repeat of the last few years
But I am more scared of freedom
And of truly feeling anything at all
I do not fear for myself but I fear life.
726 · Nov 2013
Binge/Purge.
Tara India Nov 2013
come to, limbs aching
realize you've blurred out again
walked two blistered miles
to feed a festering desire

fade back, into frenzy
behind locked doors you die
thoughts racing stop them
by eating your feelings again

bite, bite, chew, swallow, cry, repeat
over and over, filling, filling, repeat

come to, wrapper-shrouded
bed littered with your shame
count the calories, feel
that sickness and death again

fade back, into madness
pints of water until you feel
the fullness overwhelming
and race to emptying

reject, reject, gag, throw up, cry, repeat
over and over, empty, empty, repeat

come to, lying broken
on sympathetically cold tiles
once more you found comfort
in puking your feelings

fade back, unconscious
as your heart fails to beat
one day you'll **** yourself
in your fight to cope

*© Tara India.
sorry this is kinda graphic and disgusting but i had to write it, i needed an outlet..
and what i have just described is basically my entire life.
713 · Mar 2014
faithless hours
Tara India Mar 2014
the promise-laden air of 3am
lies stifling, stilled and sad
upon those who whisper into it
the darkest hopes and fears of man

the grass sways at any hour --
wind breathes alike under moonlit skies
as through baby blue air; yet
only one can burn my mind

unholy sit the grinning stars who
know my secrets and desperation,
the howling wolf that breathes, bites
in my chest, only in night's nation

why only under the sleeping haze
can I admit that the daylight burns
can I pour out my soul and own
the emptiness that swallows me in return

hushed tones and hushed hours carry
a safety: there my undoings are released
content at 3am -- 3pm holds my tongue
I drown in what lies underneath

my brittle hair holds my secrets
cracked teeth and skin contain my lies
shaking legs carry me until night's comfort
and the devil sits behind my eyes

*© Tara India.
712 · Sep 2014
Anticipation.
Tara India Sep 2014
The books are lined like soldiers,
Postcards litter the walls;
All signs are here, all lights are on
But is there anybody home?
The typewriter is clicked shut,
Gathering dust with the pens
And untouched paper which ache
To be held, used, or thrown
In madness, rage, or inspiration;
The kettle awaits its use
And the cigarettes sit unsmoked,
Here in the bed she lies alone:
Stopped, shattered with the choice
To eat or write or work
When really there's nothing to do,
She's drowning in this unknown.
No life, or sound in her breath
Glazed eyes; her empty head
Makes no mark upon the pillow,
Her bones lifeless as chrome
A week or two to pass; time
Dripping like sand in hours and
Minutes so hollow, so worthless:
A skeleton, a whale prone
Upon the bed, a shadow, she
Lingers like smoke; indecisive
She waits for purpose and to find
That dream and meaning of her own.

*© Tara India
693 · Dec 2014
Unfamiliarity.
Tara India Dec 2014
The muscled, runner’s legs
Extending from under clothes I
Hardly remember buying and
When did I place those
Ink spots upon my skin

When did I grow my hair
Till it stretched past these
Shoulders I used to hate
And can I be sure that
My soul resides within

This image, in her bold
Sunglasses and lipsticks and
With more makeup upon
Her face then I ever
Remember learning

All her jewels and flowers
Are confusing and so
New to me even though
Supposedly inside her frame
My essence is churning

I look and wonder when
I became such an enigma,
I am some people’s idea of
Beauty, and other’s may
Find me stereotypical

What is this body shown
Through a camera lens, is it
Really mine as they profess
And now as I analyse
I feel so miserable

I am unrecognisable to my
Own eyes, the mirror is
Baffling to these irises that
Search for familiarity
And I long to feel at home

Inside this corpse I reside
Supposedly, or maybe just
Confusedly, I move its limbs
I manipulate it and try
To reconcile my visual show

Yet in a photograph I do
Struggle to pick out myself
Whatever I expect, these eyes
So empty are not it and neither
Is this uncertain smile

This breaking hair and the way
I pose to pretend I’m
Absolutely fine, thankyou,
I don’t expect it and really
I just don’t know why.
Tara India Nov 2014
Two bites, just two and you're free
You did it yesterday
Tell me, why can't you eat
Is it because you're guilty
Or because you think you're fat now
Do you choose this freely

One more, and sit, explain
Tell me why it haunts you, why
Human need has become shame
Why is one meal such a fight
Is your brain stopping you or
Are you just wanting to die

Starving is not an art, or poetry
It is not about looking good
I don't want anyone to want me
I simply don't want to need
And now I find myself trapped
By the fear and fallacy of greed

Those bites meant internal war
One of attrition, locked inside
What the hell am I fighting for
Do I want to be rendered ugly
So unattractive I won't be
Hurt, attacked once more and seized

Do I want to repel, or is it now
To be thin and perfect in
My miniskirt and arched brows
Do I want control over my world
As I feel it, myself, slipping
I am becoming an insane girl

If I starve can I stay alive
Can I bear my form and figure
Convincing myself I can survive
On smoke, sugar, and caffeine
On air and diet coke without effect
Do I just want to not be seen

Finish that bite, just swallow
Are you afraid of feeling full
Afraid your humanity will show
Do you fear being seen as weak
Or needy, somehow sad
Is a bone cage what you seek

Don't purge, your body can't take
Another absconscion now
However much you have come to hate
Feeling your heart and eyes
Brighten, really function again
Are you a slave to lies

The thought of it makes me sick
I see the swelling, bubbling
Fat and I seek to destroy it
Or to destroy myself maybe
I can never be quite sure whether
Living or dying is meant for me

I don't know how to live
How to exist in this world when
I have nothing new to give
No originality dwells in my blood
My brain sings familiar tunes
My thoughts linger dark as mud

How could anyone need me
Such a vacuum of malcontent and
Self destruction, I'm never free
To love; I chose not to anymore
To breathe; it only hurts me
To laugh; I closed all those doors

I tore out my heart and pretended
I was Davy Jones, or a skeleton
I wished my life had ended
At all those times I tried to die
Now you ask if I can eat
How can I when I don't see why

Sit still, don't go expending it
That fuel is precious, please
I promise that you need it
I'll remind you through the weeks
You promised to try now
You said you'd learn to breathe

Well you need to learn to sit still
Feel full and not poisoned
By food, you should not feel ill
For finally treating your body right
I know it feels strange
But maybe you will sleep at night*

I hear your reasons, I really do
But I'm so worthless inside
This feels like hell, I tell you
The pain, the sweeping sickness
The endless need to be empty again
Have I descended into some madness

Have I lost my mind along the way
To cutting out my heart
How can I bear another day
So laden down with shame and guilt
I'm forever waiting, it seems
I'm waiting for the hole to be filled

There is a hole inside my heart
My soul a void, a nonentity
Blackness; how could I start
To conquer it when I can't see
When I am blind, I am trapped now
By this hatred and yearly deceit

But you've sat and listened
You know I am not being spiteful
I feel one day I'll be forgiven
By parents, by lovers and old friends
I'm not defiant, I'm so lost
I guess this isn't how my story ends.
this is a poetic adaptation of the sort of discussions I regularly had while I was inpatient recently, with the italicised sections relating the usual assumptions and questions of nurses and the rest being my struggle to understand my recent relapse with regards to my eating disorder.
657 · Sep 2013
to rebecca
Tara India Sep 2013
I am always the one, you see
The one who cares the most
The one who runs to you to give
My flesh and bone, my muddy ghost

I'd sell my soul, pull out my heart
For you; sweet lavender desire
You drain me dry but I don't mind
You're dove-white purity, afire

It's illusionary, really, situational
The thought you need me, or ever did
As you start to soar I am your chains
Forget me, burn my memory in acid

I am always the one left behind
Rose-crowned evil, wishing I was real
So I save others from the rushing dark
Absorbing any and all pain they feel

But I am not bitter, not even
With such reason - this troubled track
Some of us were born to the moon
To live in shadow, eyes painted black

Take all from me, your life awaits
Dream in diamond-facets tonight
Glory in all that I will never have
Hope is yours, live in the light

*© Tara India.
found this that i wrote forever ago, for my best friend. she will never see it, but still.
630 · Aug 2014
the levels.
Tara India Aug 2014
the hills roll; they mirror the clouds
that lazily scud across the sky,
muffling the sun, tearing wisps
into the powder-blue above my eyes

I am trapped inside, grass growing faster
than I will ever be free; time passing
in shadows, gasps, and pulsing hours:
bruise-black night will seem everlasting

when it comes to hold me once again,
inside a house, inside my mind I decay
and I rot, waiting for something, some
unknown glory in the light of day

but day breaks and burns me once more:
the sun too strong for my pale skin,
trees swaying, and I envy them;
I long to emulate their calm within

I am a storm-cloud which cannot soar,
my precipitation weighs me down
I long to fly, everything itches like the
scars littering my skin; my solitary frown

reflects the curvature of the fields,
meandering dandelion-speckled, corn-rowed
they become the entire worlds of
grass-chewing cows, horses alone

we watch over them, I dream through panes
of glass keeping me from fresh air;
I long to feel its breath, soak in
the sun; weave flowers in my hair.


*© Tara India.
622 · Dec 2013
46 days
Tara India Dec 2013
46 days in which to write
draw the essays from my grey matter
and prove I am still clever

46 days in which to work
earn some money to leave to friends
to remember me forever

46 days in which to talk
to everyone pretending to love me
and say my farewells

46 days in which to suffer
to continue my illusory destruction
in my private hell

46 days in which to live
before I choose to take the final
act of life in my hands

46 days before I die
through choice I'll end this torture
please, just understand

*© Tara India.
sorry to be so sad, so depressing, so broken, but I have fixed a date and have 46 days left.
622 · Nov 2014
Choices/Changes.
Tara India Nov 2014
Becoming broken is not a choice;
The slow degeneration
Has no fault or blame
It is when your mind is once more
Rectified; what you do from
There is not the same
When sick and becoming worse
I had no choice, my actions
Were not ever my own
But now sitting in the hospital
Seeing clearly my sad
Condition, I have grown
I can now make a choice
As I teeter on the brink
Of relapse and more madness
I could choose to fight
To walk away and learn not
To be controlled by sadness
It means now the flinging down
Desultory, of what I have craved
And sought for years;
It means closing some doors
Finding out what resides
On the other side of fear
To give up control, weight loss
Strict rules; to give up
On the easy destruction
To learn to breathe, to learn again
To feel and to smile
To fight these inclinations
While sinking I had no choice
While torn, no concept
That this is not what life is
But now in the aftermath
Seeing clear my insanity
I can choose to be more than this;
So I choose to do the opposite
Of what the voices say
I may not deserve food, love
But only according to
The devil resting in my mind
I must turn to the stars above;
To eat, learn to fuel my body
Appreciate its natural
Shape, resilience, form;
To stop harming myself as
Some sick replacement
To emotion; not be a storm
I must learn to settle and sit
With sadness, then hope
I will no longer seek to die;
To face my fears, challenge those
Old rules, and now I pray
I can learn to be alive.
I wrote this while recently inpatient.
608 · Aug 2014
Introductions.
Tara India Aug 2014
I like poetry and cigarettes
I like to pretend there's nothing left
Of a heart, of my beating brain
I like to pretend I'm still the same
Girl you fell for who likes the light
I like to pretend that I'm alright

I like sunrises and late sunsets
I like to place my calculated bets
On the possibility of numbers, pounds
I like that I feel time running out
That my hours are counted and dry
I like to pretend I don't ache or cry

Or shriek, a banshee to the moon
I like to say I'll get there soon
I like to think I'm like Liz Taylor
In diamonds, not a rotting failure
I like to say I still dream of peace
That I'm not insane or craving release

I like lists, planning, and cold style
Brandy and whisky and travelled miles
I like pages filled with art
I like to think I'm still in her heart
I call myself a golden-age fighter
I like to pretend it's getting brighter
I'll say I love these things till I die
Because I've no clue who I am inside.

*© Tara India
602 · Nov 2013
habits
Tara India Nov 2013
and she must enjoy it
why else would she carry on
living her life this way

it must make her happy
why else would she choose
death and decay

because who would choose
to do something they hate
every single day

unless she has no choice
she is forced into destruction
in every way

does she love it or is she
controlled by the voices
and they say

that she deserves it so
she keeps going pretending
to love the pain

*© Tara India.
i dont even know what this is, just rambling.
600 · Aug 2014
Yes, all women.
Tara India Aug 2014
Do you think i look pretty
Just for your attention?
Sorry but if you threaten me,
My skirt should not be mentioned

We are both human and I
Don't wolf-whistle at your ****;
I have some decency and won't
Catcall as you walk past

Whatever I wear is solely
For me and not for you,
I don't deserve attack or
****, or any kind of abuse

If I want to show my legs,
Then that is just fine
And if I like this dress, your
Assault shouldn't cross my mind

Even if I walked naked,
I wouldn't be asking for it
Besides I was always told:
"If you've got it flaunt it!"

Why should I take steps to
Repel you and protect myself,
When the real question is
Why can't you control yourself?

*© Tara India.
this is a very personal issue to me, I'm sick of women having to consider the likelihood of assault when getting dressed, or going out, or walking home alone, and I'm sick of these assaults then being blamed on the victim.
596 · Sep 2013
Interruption
Tara India Sep 2013
of course, of course, you're coming back
leave the lights on, you'll be home
******* can sit, and half a pack
of unsmoked straights; you'll be home

of course, of course, nobody will see
who else would -- you'll be home
the mail can wait, those pesky bills
will be paid soon enough, you'll be home

of course, of course, you'll have time
endless eternity; you'll be home
put off that call, ignore the ringing
you'll get the message, you'll be home

of course, of course, leave the cat in
you'll feed her later, you'll be home
set the tv to record, wine in the fridge
to enjoy tonight, you'll be home

oh no, oh no, they say not this time
this chance was your last, never coming home
worry and fret over things undone
a life unlived; you're never coming home.

*© Tara India.
this was inspired by the loss of my grandfather a few weeks back, and the first visit to begin clearing out his flat. everything had just been put on pause..
594 · Jun 2014
alcohol
Tara India Jun 2014
pour yourself a drink
it's four o clock somewhere
and who cares if in the morning
you'll feel so much worse

pour it with shaking hands
from caffeine worse for wear
and no food that day
just as long as it hurts

let the wine spill down
in gulps of pain and regret
don't bother to measure
you'll feel a little better

let it race into your blood
all you want is to forget
your liver fails and body cries
with each sip saying 'whatever'

choose to lose your mind
and senses to getting ****** up
oblivion your only goal
hoping it'll be over soon

choose to disregard advice
because it's never enough
and neither are you as
you howl at an ignorant moon

drink down each new glass
with reckless abandon and hope
that you'll forget this night or
finally commit that deadly act

drink until you're hollowed
you empty out and heaven knows
you want to die each minute
now there's no going back

listen to voices instead of friends
to pain instead of love
part your skin to cry in red
because your eyes are stone cold

listen to acohol and pills
as the only things you trust
give up and give in because
your future is dust not gold.


*© Tara India.
592 · Dec 2014
As if I could see myself.
Tara India Dec 2014
Wasted on you are all the glories
Of a world you can only see
In monochrome and silent film
The lights are dull and weary

In greyscale you wander on
The blue sky goes unseen
Or unnoticed by your tired eyes
Head down you walk uneasy

Even your smile is a ghost
Never quite reaching your eyes
Vanishing as soon as they
Stop looking and you huddle inside

Your fragile shell and a mind
So worn down and tired
I hear every laughing word
And I know you are a liar

Or if not a wasted talent
The greatest actress alive
You can never break the glass
But keep pretending to be fine

Immaculately dressed just so
No-one will give you a second glance
You are so scared of everything
You won't give life a chance.
I spent most of Friday writing and this came to me - if I could see myself from the outside, step out of my body, then this is what I would notice and want to say to myself.
Tara India Sep 2013
liar, liar
say you want to get better
a girl crying health
when really you count your bones
and hang your worth
upon them

liar, liar
call yourself recovering
when you're broken
walking towards a slow death
and existing as
90% poison

liar, liar
swearing blind you'll try
you'll hold on
when you drag that blade
walk into destruction with
both eyes open

*© Tara India.
i am such a liar.
587 · Mar 2014
weakness
Tara India Mar 2014
she sits and sways -
her head clouded by noise
dust and hunger swim
through her mind

she sits and feels
as though she might sink
become part of the
dusky coverlet

she sits -- she cries
her body failing and
flaking, throbbing
in its retribution

she sits and dreams
behind plastic eyes: numb
and dumb as her
crumbling corpse

she sits, she sees
the hours thrum by in
time with her lazy
aching heart

she sits and she is
surrounded by real or
not real shadows
and living ghosts

she sits and tries
to dredge up a smile
but brain and body
lie disconnected

she sits and dreads
impending doom and
fragile movements
on shaking legs

she sits -- she sighs
feels the pull and drag,
pant of wheezing
dried-out lungs

she rises and sways
not strong enough now
her self destruction has
taken its toll.

*© Tara India.
563 · Dec 2014
Of my own reflection.
Tara India Dec 2014
I am bone-white
Am I your skeleton
Or the ghost of a thousand
Pages torn from ivory books
Do you dare touch me --
Will I start to flake
Or crumble into chalk
Powder to be scattered by
The winds to the sky

I am coloured in
Or at least heavily painted
Into the tones of
A girl who could almost
Be real in the daylight
And my ostentatious use
Of lipstick slashes
My skilfully covered face
I am a walking mirage

In supplication I stretch
Cold hands to you
Or to the careless sun
I know not what I seek
Or if it even really exists
I walk in life like
Everything is certain while
I crack inside --
My mind is fragile at best

I am invisible
Am I your shadow now
In the dark I am
Completely indistinguishable
So weak is the fire
That once blazed in
My now glazed eyes
I have been entirely drained
I am my own vampire

I am the winter
Or at least a wintergirl
Ice forms my still heart
Or maybe it fills
The place where a human
Heart used to beat
Fluttering like robin's wings
Avoiding the snow --
I let the chill consume me

I am the best example
Of how you can waste a life
Of time unwisely spent
And all the wrong
Choices are embodied in me
Watching the sand slide
The hours slip by
Through my quivering hands
I am out of time.
547 · Nov 2013
one night.
Tara India Nov 2013
she sits, rolls up her sleeves and looks
at snakes and worms that crawl and mar
her peach milk skin, thinking
why don't they see

they all look, they all ******* stare
but they don't see and never will
they'll never see past the
barbed-wire lines

the white, pink, purple crosses
a barrier between her and the whole
of humanity, that looks
and yet never sees

she cannot count the times she has
held a knife, blade, pin, nails
to her wretched flesh and
prayed for courage

watches it bite and release, slow,
the ghosts and pain that swell
in her martyred blood and
still she cannot count

the nights she has prayed for
strength to press down and
go deeper, through the
milky layers until

she finds blue veins, and gazes
as they empty, pouring out
her life, and giving her
the one thing she craves

she wishes it wouldn't hurt to sink
a blade into her corpse, wishes
skin would split with
impersonality

wishes it could be like cutting an apple
she could disconnect and go deep
enough that her own blood
would be her freedom

she wants to steal the power from
those voices in her head, that
her body didn't betray her
with ****** survival

she sits, holds a blade, reflecting
a forearm bared of all but its
rugged scars, reaches out
for that numbing bottle

distract the mind, ensnare senses
delay reactions and slice through
the fragile skin coating
her beloved release

go deep enough to know it's real
she desires to go deeper until
she falls into something,
somewhere unreal

now, just imagine, how much pain
each day, each second causes
to make that feel like the best
the only option

and picture this, that every night
she draws closer, drunken
dreaming and ever closer to
losing it one night.

*© Tara India.
trigger warning i guess, but this is how i feel, this is an adaptation of some random journaling. i am a very unsafe, unstable person right now.
545 · Sep 2013
Real or not real?
Tara India Sep 2013
fragmentary feeling like broken glass
shattered scales and lonely hearts
something comes loose inside my mind
and poison spreads to blur my eyes

it's been eons since I was human
a little girl grew into an illusion
ghosts, shadows, and a drop of blood
as I **** the ones I used to love

a heart devoid; soul of ice
over the edge, did I fall or fly
well devils don't fly down the rabbit hole
and good girls don't sell their souls.

*© Tara India.
538 · Dec 2013
winter's girl.
Tara India Dec 2013
i feel the shadows calling me
the twisted dark that hides from the light
it begins to inhabit my bones
whispering to my degenerate mind

i see them form in the hollows of my eyes
behind the iris they leave their mark
settling between my ribs and I
let them crawl deep into my heart

winter's ice nestles in my hair
days grow longer with sleep obsolete
the time spins from fast to slow
true rest is a luxury not meant for me

i become as empty as the grey matter
at the base of my skull breaking down
i am as cold as the autumn rain
my breath the snow-chill all around

like summer flowers i frost and die
inside buried deeper than the dead
my springtime heart has been frozen
i exist in the cage of my head

i am darkness and rotting dreams
static energy, all consuming night
i live in the silvering reflections
wonder on what i have wasted my life

*© Tara India.
537 · Dec 2013
nothing to show
Tara India Dec 2013
I am paralysed by the thought of another year
yet another year wasted in ignorance
with self destruction reigning, and I now
with nothing to show

I am mortified by the thought so many can
see my flaws bared in squandered time
hours given over to my demons and
with nothing to show

I am terrified by the thought that this was
another in the long line of years that
passed in a daze, a blurred haze, left
with nothing to show

I am mystified by the method of time's passing
how quickly it flew and I let it slip
so that the year is almost bled dry
with nothing to show

I am petrified by the idea my grand year
the year meant to equal recovery has
led to worse pain, relapse, and fled
with nothing to show

I am paralysed, again, by the fact that
I don't even want to be alive next year
and that for 2014 I will have
even less to show

*© Tara India.
536 · Dec 2014
3.57am
Tara India Dec 2014
I’d rather know my head was aching from
***** than all the reasons you left me. That my
throat was burning from polluting my lungs
instead of crying out your name. I’d
rather believe that the tears
staining my pillow at night were caused by
forcing myself to bend over the toilet bowl than
by longing to feel you wrapped around
me as I lie incapable of sleep. That the reason
dreams escape me is starvation and
not a restless longing. I wish I could
fool myself into believing I’m shaking from
nervousness all day instead of from
the absence of your eyes.

I keep tricking myself into thinking I weep
from pain and not from love, but
every razor line is nothing to knowing that
love was not enough in the end. That I
held everything in my hand and let
it slip away, as the days now fall from me because
you are gone. If only I could blame
hunger for the ravenous cries of my soul.
If only I could convince myself solely
malnutrition and winter’s chill raise goosebumps
on my skin.

These partial truths make it easier
to forget I am so consumed by a desire
and desperation that will never be satiated. I
will never again feel whole. And I can
let smoke fill my mouth until I almost forget
the taste of you, but it will never
replace you. I can’t even say I started
drinking when I met you, or that I wasn’t
already in the grips of sweet demons. But
losing you sure made it easier to let them
dig their claws into my heart, made it
easier to turn my soul into ash and parade myself
as some poor degenerate being, if only
to forget how empty I am now. It sure
as hell made it more necessary.
535 · Nov 2014
Pretences and appearances.
Tara India Nov 2014
Don't tell me I'm better
Because my scars are healing
Or because my ribs no longer break skin
Don't tell me I seem fine
Because I look like a real girl now
You can't see the battle raging within

Don't tell me I'm better
When you see me eating pizza
Or taking morning pills to keep me quiet
Don't tell me I seem fine
Because I can sit and laugh out loud
And I can make jokes until the night

Don't tell me I'm better
I've been polluting my lungs
Until my insides are smoke and tar
Don't tell me I seem fine
I can't get out of bed every day
I cry apathetically to the stars

Don't tell me I'm better
You can't tell just by looking at me
Or believing the smile I paint on each day
Don't tell me I seem fine
How can you know my racing mind
You can never judge illness this way

Don't tell me I'm better
Because I no longer have the energy to cut
Or starve but that isn't alright
Don't tell me I seem fine
If I talk to you about normal things
Being able to pretend is not the same as fine.
530 · Feb 2015
00.24
Tara India Feb 2015
The clock chimes midnight; there are tears in my eyes,
We only just met and I heard you say goodbye.
I can understand, god knows I understand why
you wouldn’t want to open this door, but I
can’t explain in simple words; however hard I try
I can’t form the right explanation for how the sky
started to look a little less bleak, my once-dry
hours became a little easier to take and I smile
every time I think of you; and each time
you talk to me I think: how wonderful to be alive

I love your little questions, the way you
wanted to learn the little things, and it’s true:
it’s the little things that get you through
somehow you made the time a little less blue,
the sky more so; I dreamed of happiness and you;
I started picturing you, wondering how you
laugh and whether you like the same things I do
and whether I’d fit perfectly next to you
or in your arms; I found excitement anew
waiting for the day I could run to you

You are the only thing on my mind
I swear; even when I’m out of it and out of time
you were the one filling my dreams and I
wish I could explain how for once inside
I felt warm without whisky or wine;
anticipation and possibilities were running high,
to get to sleep I thought of when I
could fall into your embrace; to call you mine
is all I dream: I’d even put down the bottle, I
would be so grateful to have even survived

If we could give this just one shot
my angel, please; somehow I forgot
how once I seemed obsessed with her and not
able to change; I’ve grown, I’ve changed a lot;
so please, I beg you, don’t be gone
please let me keep trying to explain what
I feel at the sound of your name; not
another person in this world could top
the way I feel for you; we could be in love
and I’d give everything for a chance for us.
hoping against all hope you will see this. I don't know what to do to get through to you that you're everything I want.
521 · Feb 2015
Suspended in time.
Tara India Feb 2015
Miss Havisham has nothing on my decay
I’ve lived a thousand years in this state
In stasis my hair tarnishes grey
As the eyes behind which I deteriorate
I’ve been trapped by my old ways
Habits die hard and the twists of fate
Have deserted me to go and play
With other mortals who don’t retaliate

In frosted silks and velvet capes
Spiderwebs frame my wrinkling face
And beside me all laid with lace
The remnants of my life wither away
With a forlorn smile I greet the day
The visits lessen as I fall ever more prey
To isolation and the soft sway
Of my mind as it disintegrates

You smile politely and start to say
You had heard I was once rendered great
And good but I am no saint
I am nobody to emulate
I am frozen as a winter’s day
Stiff and still and never to change
My dusty breath will suffocate
And I beg you to turn away

Leave me in this slumbering daze
A relic of another age
Long-passed and tinged with grey
A memory inarticulate
I tired of life one summer’s day
It grew bored of me too in its way
Left me immortal and unchanged
Its cruelty can never be replaced.
The idea of this came from Great Expectations, of course, but also from the persistent feeling I am frozen in time.
519 · Aug 2014
homeless.
Tara India Aug 2014
It is always a risk to build
A home in someone else's arms
Those comforting walls can so easily
Crumble with your fleeting charms

To make another your universe
Is setting yourself up for a fall
As people change, so will their love
It may disappear as another calls

You try to get closer and become
Entwined to escape the loneliness
But moving into another's heart
Will only leave you homeless

I speak with sad knowledge in me
My tongue tainted by this
By having no house for my soul
My lips echoing her kiss

My arms now reach into air
As empty as my drained-out eyes
My one shelter burned to ash
I lie bereft under winter's sky

The road winds on and I stumble
Seeking a place that doesn't exist
Homesick with nostalgia
In my fairytale there was a twist

So I say preserve your own
Body as your home, and keep
Your distance to protect your dwelling
For it will protect your dreams.

*© Tara India.
513 · Sep 2014
5.53 am.
Tara India Sep 2014
I'm freezing from the winter within
Even under the sun I wither;
Empty-hearted, endless rejection:
Is life truly so unforgiving
Or is it my heart, my body,
Purely me predisposed to pain
And torture; am I so malignant
So unloveable and now so drained.

I'm sitting while the sun sleeps,
And the stars hover misty-eyed,
I'm trapped in some personal silence
In some self-made prison I rot, die
Have I been captured or abandoned
Or did I choose my isolation:
Hollow-eyed, did I lock this cage
Submit myself to this damnation.

I'm crying while the moon laughs
Its white face grins and burns me;
I'm running myself into the ground
To collapse, melt, weep daily
Over who I have lost through
Some poisonous desire to destruct;
For what I gave up, I incinerate,
I know now I'll never be enough.

*© Tara India
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