Flesh wound
Bumpy terrain
On my arm
Like holes in lace

Oh it stings so good
and it looks so bad
Rotting skin
White and red clash

I look inside
Past my snow, so white
Kind of cover I had
That never fit quite right

These gaping holes
Excite me so
I hope these gaping holes
Will never be sewn

I'm not "princess" anymore
Never have been
Never was
I'm not above you
I don't pretend to
be

Cracked lips
From uncalculated screams
Smothered in my blanket
Suffocated
And your hand at my throat
Hasn't left for 7 years

Love you Daddy

As I plant myself in front of the mirror
I lift my shirt
And see what I've seen
For about as long as I can remember.
It's a stomach
Always has been.

But these tiny rolls
and squishy bits
have fluctuated
for many years
and I poke a ****
with a loving hand
a caress more than a stab

Yet you insist that I should hate my body

I love my mid section
I love the stretch marks on my thighs
I love the way my stomach
folds and plies
I love it all so much
And all of it is me
So why are you treating me like a sub-human being?

You say that you'd much rather
me having a drinking problem
than be fat
that's what you said
and you think I have a problem?

I'm 5' 1", at about 125.
You think it's "healthy" to have a low BMI.

Your method isn't working
I'm not dieting
No way
No weight watcher's for me
not ever
not today

If you think I should hate myself, Mom
I think you should just leave
Because I love my every fiber
I'm an exceptional human being
And you've overlooked so many facets of a life
And that beauty comes from within
And a couple pounds isn't going to change that
I don't need to be thin.

I can convince myself of many things
Like how my hair looks better with a little blonde than it does with none.
I can convince myself that no one loves me.
And sometimes it works.
And the mind is a devastatingly beautiful thing.
But mine never seems to do things right.
Like remembering things.
Or studying.
But my mind can sure do a lot of damage.
To a point where I'm sick with my own fears.
Turning like a sifter
Letting the good pass on
And leaving the lumps of bad.

I hate this empty feeling
In my stomach
Acidic and cold
Like someone punched it


I feel sick
I think I combusted
Wouldn't be surprised
If you loved it

I hate myself
I hardly speak
Because I hate what's underneath

I'm horrible
Understand that

golly gee
the yellow moon
and the hairs on the back of your neck

I think I saw a miracle tonight
in your eyes

ski socks on
with model clay in my hands
and a sweet face that smells like cherry pie

do I rely
on make-believe books
or real life
parallels
or the corners
and nooks

of a life far away
not of mine
but in me

oh how silly and lovely these days

A blend of threads
Complex
Yet dead
Intertwining
Mingling
A braid on her head

She's young
Yet old
In mind
She's bold
Young girl
I could've told
Her
"Don't lose
that fierce sense
of self."

But she's gone
Moved on
Dismissive
She's become
It's like
Her identity
Was sold.

No more
Will she know
Who she is
She's only told
Things that don't make sense in her head.

She's lost.