"anas" poems
Anorexia is not collar bones.
It is the smell rotting of flesh as you dismantle your body bit by bit.
Anorexia is not a thigh gap, it is your knees so weak they shake as you fall to the ground.
Anorexia is not self control. It is the feeling of utter hopelessness as your life tornados into a blizzard of nothingness.
Anorexia is not fashionable. It is your mother’s sobbing eyes as she sees her child dying
Anorexia is not 80 pounds. It is the weight of a thousand pulsing suns on your shoulders.
A thick black cloud in your mind, and rules spelled out like chains pulling you towards the ground.
No matter what measure of gravity that you have in this earth, it still hurts, it’s still real.
So to you 'pro anas' who so blindly say 'hunger hurts, but starving works' think before you act.
Suffering is an addiction, please do not harm yourself with this affliction.
- Emily Ward
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
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Auto
plushophilia
Actirasty Agal
matophilia Anas
teemaphilia A
utogynophilia
Climacophilia
Formicophilia
Knismolagnia
L ith o phil ia
Melissaphilia
Nas o l i ng us
Neb u lophilia
Psellismophili
a Pteronophili
a Pygophilia
Savant o p h i l ia
*** ill ag nia Transfestic Fetish
ism ********* Vorurephilia
Xylophilia Xylophilia
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
Something about the comfort of autumn—
in California our leaves go straight from green
to gone, if they choose to change at all.
The sun stays bright but the air starts to bite,
and the Santa Anas blow through to dry up
our last drops of livelihood. Most seem to like it—
the streets littered with death and ready to restart—
but the rough winds always hollow me out,
echo a haunting song off the tunnelled walls
of my bones. It’s about this time I empty out,
and fill instead with cotton mouth. My lips chap
and crack, but I smile silently, and I wait.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC
the ducks were
holding a funeral
out on the marsh
under the sun
silently they stood
while their shadows
moved around them
into darkness
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
In seclusion when I sit;
And close both my eyes.
I travel way back in time.
Flying time vision defies.
Childhood friends appear.
Faces clear and bright.
I think of Raj, Arsh and Anas;
And they're in my sight.
A day I saw a drug-addict.
My friend Arsh he was.
Distorted image of puerility.
Sunken eyes, ugly Jaws.
Now when I close my eyes.
I see all but Arsh I see no more.
When I think of Little Arsh.
A drug-addict comes before.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
Chained, on the walls of jericho
Horrified, on the roads of monaco
Rested his will in the promise land
Inviting us to repent and take his hand
Startled, by the king of greece
Throttled, by the eastern breeze
Oblivious, like the men of egypt
Precise, like a code encrypt
Herald of so many man,
Endless, like kingdom come.
Righteous and glorious like everyone.
All of humanity embraces him
None was taken, but save us from sin
Thorns were on his crown, and rags were his robe
Onto crucifixion he walked that rough and winding road
Neglected by Judas and Peter the pope
In his honor, came the christian hope
Only the highest now, can vow upon him and sleep on his coat
Alelujah, amen and forever we pray to thee
Not just for our sins, but of what have become we
Alelujah, amen and forever we pray to thee
So now and forever he will defend for humanity....
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC