dad left
for his second tour of duty
on my third birthday

mom kept
a jar full of jelly beans
on the living room coffee table

every night
she gave me one to eat, saying
"when these jelly beans
are all eaten up,
dad will come back home"

sometimes
i would sneak another,
to help dad come home sooner

one night
the phone rang
and i watched mom
wipe away a tear
as she filled
the jar
back
up

We never made it to the sea,
You and I.
I loved so deep that it left a scar.
The wreckage of my flesh,
Weeps crimson tears.
My sweet purgatory.
My damnation.
Cutting deeper —
Without price.
Without pain.
We never made it to the sea,
But I am drowning.

that girl in the conor
80 lbs of weight
she's beautifully broken
skinny almost dead

that girl in the front
200 lbs of weight
she's happy and giggly
but fat and almost dead

we have me in the middle
100 lbs of weight
i'm neither happyor beautifull
i'm fat, living but not at all alive

You're all I taste..

Besides the nicotine
and the alcohol
I've been doing since
you were gone.

i'm not proud to say
i'm 85 lbs
that's not much of a girl
but i remember
when being 85 lbs
was all i ever wanted
when i craved a flat stomach
thin wrists
a gap between my thighs so wide
when i spent my days
filling my belly with water and air
taking lunches to school
but not eating them
instead tossing them in the trash because the smell of fresh fruit
made me sick
when i look in the mirror
i see the ghost and skeleton of a girl
who's in recovery
and i'm disgusted
85 lbs
is not much of a girl
i remember when all i wanted
was to be smaller, smaller
when i was 80 i wanted to be 75
75 wasn't enough so i kept purging til i hit 70
70 wasn't enough
65 wasn't enough
nothing would ever be enough
0 would never be enough
-10 would never be enough
i remember when they forced needles into my papery skin
i remember when 80 was enough for me to keep my life
and i remember
when i decided
i would always be enough

I'll write to starve
She said.

I'll eat words,
Develop a bulemic
Mentality,
Purging the words
To the page in
Nauseating bursts.

I'll force it
When I have to.
I'll write when
The hunger pangs
Themselves,
Start to eat me.

I'll sum up calories through
Raucous poetry.
I'll grow weak
As my pen grows strong.

I'll write even when
My hand shakes
Because there's not
Enough sustenance.

I'll deny my body,
And cultivate my mind
With measured abundance.
I'll shrivel up and
Waste away.
But the words will stay
On the paper.

You'll see and say,
How can a skeleton write?

I'll grip the pen
With bony fingers
And I'll show you.
I'll feed you too.