"binged" poems
At the Zoo
Patriots and faux exhibit and binge on synonyms of liberty printed on beer and underwear
Advertising what should be unspoken and inspired to pervert and romanticize
Preludes to the parades and finale above us all
Weeks of saturated irony
Cuckoo bird irony and BBQ
As they reform Phoenix, rebirth of distractions and thievery
Predators in ally ways pursing America's diamonds and legs
Then gunpowder
Gunpowder of colors and cuckoos
Layers of streets in gunpowder
Towns built of gunpowder
Sky is gunpowder
We are born addicted to led and gunpowder
Gunpowder ****** in the air
Success, display and diversion and more gunpowder to ingest.
The Grand Finale
The Volta of the evening
The hammer of the judge
*** appeal of death and nature flexing it's muscles-
show us some skin!
Covering your ears
Eyes fastened-
Ready to burrow back to mothers womb
Binged and free
Chinese celebration hijacked
Red, White and Blue
And a moment of silence
Orchestrated onomatopoeia in heaven
Chorus of arousal on Earth
Band marching war machines in hell
The showdown of 241 years!
This freedom we are all grateful to only talk about
Only free to battle shackling intoxication
Men and women tugging extra weighted offspring
Sulking for indoors and portable addiction
Chanting three letter obedience
God being counted by his blessings
Fear and Statism in every breathe for salvation from our stick swatted enemies
Checkpoints that serve and protect asking for a toll;
liberty synonyms.
Arresting the too free
At the Zoo,
The cuckoos regaining reality.
The phoenix red eye and held under oath
To the next day where we are back
To hate each others freedom, again.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
Four days of hunger
Four days so sweet
My stomach is angry
It's so mad at me
And the pain is lovely
It's sweet agony
And then I ate
I filled my tummy up
I binged until it hurt
More food; not enough
I don't want to weigh myself
I broke my own trust
I broke to binge
And I couldn't throw it up
It felt so good
But the guilt is too much
I feel so fat
But when I eat I feel love.
I'm breaking to binge
Eat anything in sight
Ninety-six hours
Ruined in one night
This lack of self-control
Is ruining my life.
Hunger hurts
But I want it so bad
Hunger hurts
But I miss what I had
I miss the hunger pains
Cause binging makes me sad
So I'm working to purge
I'm working on control
This dapper little dirge
Is a reflection of my soul
No one ******* cares
So no one needs to know.
No one ever stops me
So I'm not going to eat
Because the me in the mirror
Isn't the me I want to see.
If there was someone there
Maybe I'd be free.
Back to the cutting board
My goal was one-thirty
Back to the cutting board
Now one-twenty
Self-control
I like the sound of eighty.
I broke to binge
The ugliest sin
I broke for food
And now I brood
But I'm better again
I must be thin
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
I binged today. Normally I'd say, "it's okay."
but the truth is that it's not
I wish it weren't so hard to stop, but I have a disorder
One that many people just don't understand.
It's like I have a hole I can't fill inside of me
one that keeps telling me I need to eat more
"You're not full yet, eat this, eat that!" My stomach tricks me
Until it doesn't and I feel the consequences of my actions.
If only I could stop myself.
The people who think it's as easy as telling yourself no are wrong
I spend money on food that I think will help me,
try to create a new habit called "eating healthy."
My disorder just laughs at this.
Because it knows what I'll do the next time I'm feeling anything
I'll go order a McDonalds number 3 large,
or go to the grocery and fill up my cart.
I'll get home and eat it too quickly til I can't move anymore
Then cry and feel angry that I'm too afraid to throw it up.
Jul 4, 2021
Jul 4, 2021 at 11:25 PM UTC
today i woke up and played animal crossing. i ate ice cream and i binged. i microwaved salt and water, it didn't do anything and i felt stupid calling it a binge. small binges count, shallow cuts count too. it's about how you feel while stuffing your face with three cereal bars at the speed of light or storing sharp objects as a panic button.
I spent the day self-loathing and wishing I had a prettier disorder. one that doesn’t get you called a ***** when you just need someone to tell you what is real and what is not, one that doesn't make crawling out of your bed an impossible challenge. I remember how forgiving people were when everyone suspected I had adhd. I would hurt myself whenever i couldn't focus and they thought that was worth a hug, mania is not even worth a kind word. I remember my ex handing me ritalin, I remember not taking it because I was paranoid about being poisoned. there was “you can do it” written on the box with a smiley face. he had the same grin as he f!cked me and spat on me minutes away. I scratched his back as bad as I could so the other girl would notice and ask him if he was treating me right. he thought it was arousing. it was a cry for help.
now I sit on the edge of the bed I spent the past few days in. it got me missing my old bedroom, the cocoon i lived inside for eight years. i sit here alone and unlovable by the standards of controlling neurotypicals, i still can't focus for the life of me and I've never felt so close yet so far from my dreams.
if i'll have to take a step back from my ambitions once again, then so be it.
my only hope is that death feels like going grocery shopping and exiting the store knowing that you checked all of the boxes of your list, I hope my grandma felt safe as she passed.
if heaven is real I hope my hym3n grows back to convince myself I was never in danger. I hope I can be something other than life's mixed, blonde, green-eyed f!ck doll.
Sep 19, 2024
Sep 19, 2024 at 8:35 AM UTC
Once, I bathed in anxiety,
soaking it all into my follicles and letting it slide
between my bones and through my muscles like ice water.
And I reeked.
Others couldn’t stand to be around me.
I became an inhuman symbol,
something robotic and unfeeling.
Then, I reached the peak of hypocrisy--
rejected sparkling convention yet was
simultaneously enamored with it.
I binged on harsh words
aimed at diminishing my sense of self.
I was a frail,
98-pound girl
looking into the mirror
and seeing only excess.
Throughout, I was weighted with bruised limbs--
from being grabbed too hard and pounded too rough against the floor,
and broken down doors and cracked cellphones--
which my father threw violently against the wall.
I watched the glass shatter and end tables topple
down at my mother’s feet,
her eyes wide and glassy,
her face fallen.
Once, I stood naked in a sputtering shower
and slammed my fist
—twice—
into the face of the person I loved
the most, leaving him
with a haunted
eye.
Then, I picked a flower from the sky.
Throughout, I cried because my father left me,
while pretending I was only crying
about a sad song.
These days no longer belong to me,
but the voices are still there.
And the ache.
And the fear.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
blood or strawberry syrup,
i feast on my gore, my waste,
my crime. i swallowed God
and purged him up.
i starved myself to heaven’s gates
but couldn't fit through the bars,
thick with sin, putrid and heavy.
i fell to the earth.
aspartame heartbeat,
cardiac arrested, imprisoned,
no way out.
i became the wound i created,
let it grow, let it fester and rot
with a coat of sugar and cinnamon.
my pain is full of calories,
so i purged that too.
true love is an execution,
a sacrifice, careful and divine.
my candied crucifixion,
holy libation to a lonely tyrant.
i made a mess, binged
into oblivion, emptiness.
it is not romantic,
but it is something.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC
Drowning my antidepressant with a cup of tea, waiting for sleep to overtake me.
I've learn to ignore the begging of my stomach, I only have enough energy to feed one ***** and my heart is screaming for attention.
"If you take these pills you'll get out of bed" One pill two pills three pills four.
I'm out of bed and on the floor, crying silent tears.
"If you take these pills you'll worry less"
One pill two pills three pills four.
No weary thoughts cross my mind,
I'm indulged in sleep that seems to be the reason why.
Isn't this medicine supposed to keep me out of bed?
"If you take these pills you'll learn self harm isn't the answer"
One pill two pills three pills four.
I haven't binged in a week, I've been too busy with a panic attack spree.
If this isn't self harm then its self sabotage.
"If you take these pills you may have some side effects"
One pill two pills three pills- a
years supply later.
My face is stained with tears.
That seems to be the only thing I feel.
I think I'm done.
Or so I wish it was done.
I take four green pills.
I'm addicted and scared.
I reach for more by force of habit,
Before I finish I'm consumed by darkness.
...
No I didn't overdose on anti psychotics,
but i've had my last dose of self pity.
Diagnosed, but not cured.
Enough with the pills.
Enough with these journal entries, and pitiful pep talks.
Enough with self indulgence.
I'm ill, not dead.
Sixteen years lived,
Two years defining me as anxious and depressed.
Its 2016 I call this "The Awakening"
If you fight for your sanity your drug intake won't define you.
One pill two pills three-
Who's counting?
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 12:04 AM UTC
When I said “I love you,” I lied
with a drifting and dreamy head
across the velvety sea
I imagined
resting and narrowly defined
in the nakedness
at the edge of your lap.
I have a history
of over-indulging
mixed-up senses.
I tasted the sight
of a gently curved nose.
I caressed the scent
of a lightly perfumed neck.
I’ll speak but not hear again
of the salty, savory, sweetness;
all bitterness has gone.
It’s not that I binged
so much as feasted
after a prolonged period
of self-deprivation.
And now I’m caught
between two urges:
To shave, to shear, to no longer
shabbily make shrift;
Or to revel
in the sloppy temptation
of recalling you.
Powerless I'll watch
the dissembling
tomorrow makes.
Before it comes, whisper-soft,
I repeat my mistake,
and unreliably say,
“I loved you.”
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 8:27 AM UTC
Sounds like crucify.
My hands are bound by his grip
on the plank perpendicular to my toes
that start to curl backwards now.
I binged on memories
of the words words words
and when my ears burned
I imagined you cradling her
on your chest
softly brushing her hair back
and talking about me.
At the summer camp where
Jesus saved me
I picked up a pre-packaged
cereal sealed in a factory
long before my selection.
I peeled away the plastic film
and there where my bowl
of cereal was supposed to be
was a colony of silkworms,
squirming around like
a bunch of tied hogs
in a swimming pool.
I threw up because it grossed me out.
I had no control over it.
When I think about her hair
around your stubby, little fingers
I throw up because it grosses me out.
I have no control over it.
I'm no Will Shortz, but this poem is about you.
There's your clue.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 12:58 AM UTC
There was a time I wanted to rip you to shreds.
There was a time I would’ve begged you to stay.
There was a time I would’ve done anything for you.
You said when you were younger, you were a bad person.
You said you worked on it.
But I don’t think anything has changed.
I used to think you were so strong.
But all I can see is how weak you are.
How you let one person get in the way of your family.
You kicked a narcissist out to protect me only to let another one in.
Only to let the same **** thing happen.
There was a time when there’s nothing else to say.
You didn’t believe me then
You won’t believe me now.
There’s nothing else to fight for.
There was a time I felt empty.
That night after the text.
Filling my body with the same liquid that ruined my family.
Nothing seemed to help.
That void still existed.
I still was alone.
There was a time I wanted you dead.
And it lasted for months.
I felt embarrassed and ashamed that you left me.
Seeing a picture of you just ignited a fire within
There was a time I wanted to be dead.
What’s the point when you have no one?
What’s the point when all you’ve worked for was gone?
What’s the point if they didn’t want me.
There was a time I felt pity.
That you let it happen.
You say it was my fault but it was your doing.
You wanted this.
Your own blood gone.
There was a time when I let go.
When I stopped checking for phone calls or texts.
When I stopped hoping you would show up.
When I stopped thinking about what you had for dinner.
What shows you binged.
There is a time I felt peace.
I’m happy where I am.
Jun 10, 2023
Jun 10, 2023 at 4:07 AM UTC
Do you see that girl?
Her mind hiding years of tormenting secrets, face stained with tears,
Her lips sealed closed promising never to tell what she has been suffering with.
Don’t you see her?
That girl is right there and you don’t you even know
Because you would much rather choose “ignorance is bliss”
Then reach your hand out and help her.
That girl she is screaming trying to get the attention of anyone with a listening ear
She is trying to tell you she can’t take it anymore .She wants you to see
The scares left behind by that unwanted visitor.
The pain that has sieged her heart.
Do you see her?
That girl she binged on the fantasias of what her favorites rapper says make a baddie
So she lap band her addictions and Botox away her depression
Thinking all that cosmic surgery can take away her pain.
What she really needs is for someone to take her by the hand
And tell her that everything be okay and she can make it.
That girl is right there and still can’t see her
Because you are too quick to judge.
If you would take some time and listen you would
Know she is screaming out for help
She has wants you to know she has had it with
The physical and mental abuse.
That girl she is looking for a way out but she keeps sinking
Back into her own inward conflicts that pull her back in faster than quick sand
She like Eva took a big bite out of depiction and enter into the hand of sin.
If you would just stop and pay attention you would have know
That girl she is sitting right next to you .
Now do you see her?
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
I'm getting better
I'm learning how to eat again
The weights are still in my closet,
and I binged again
I promise you
I'm gonna stop
I'm not gonna die
But I think I'll go purge
I swear I'm fine
I'm telling you, I ate
Don't believe me, whatever
But I truly am gaining weight
Okay, so maybe I lied
I don't want to stop
I want to be pretty and thin
And even perfect
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
When I was a little girl
And my mother still laid out clothes for me
She'd always tell me
"You're the prettiest girl in your class,
But you'd be beautiful if you combed your hair more."
When I was a bit older
And I didn't care much
About what I wore
My mom would always say
"You'd be beautiful if your clothes matched."
When I was 14,
And I skipped breakfast and lunch
And binged at dinner
I lost my appetite
And felt like throwing up
When my mom said
"You'd be beautiful if you didn't eat so much."
I wonder if you saw what I did to myself
If you'd have the nerve to tell me
"You'd be beautiful if only you didn't
Take a razor to your wrist or a finger to your throat."
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
Enter here
I have been twittered tweeted chat roulette a few
Tumbled flickered facebooked too
Instantagramed even reddit
Haven’t been face to face in months
Human contact
Leaves me here in cyberspace
Leaves me wanting waiting anticipating
A warm whisper
A single finger slowly moving down my arm
A kiss on the forehead
A loving embrace full of passion for me
Smiles with dimples that glow the room like sunlight
Twinkles in the eyes as laughter bubbles beneath the surface
A single sigh of satisfaction but alas
I google yahoo asked and binged
I search for love
Yet
It’s back to the internet
To hide and bide my time.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 6:37 AM UTC
They go thru flow cells
and return a million read
Weekly poems sent
anonymously to be sequenced
in a massively parallel
batch job
The hits come back
in blinking dots,
ephemeral likes, individual
happy flashes from
bar-coded singlets.
But how to know
when a solitary spot
has read our entire
genome?
Have you binged
on the DNA
of our identity?
Can you tell us
who I are
and
where I are going?
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
I spread my fingers through her hair, all in knots.
An empty pie tin lies on the floor, binged and dropped
from her side. I'm propping her on the dream she's slipped in.
Cherry goo stains her lip. I thumb the remains,
wiping it on my jeans as she breathes
stale, sugar crust. Her mascara clumps
underneath her lash-line, eyes blinking
like a monarch's wings.
I peel her socks off, cold toes resting
in my hands. She curls beneath
a layer of down and ratty, baby blanket.
Quietly, as she ties herself to another
panic-induced slumber, I flush
her ***** down the toilet and clean
the rim of the bowl with bleach
and the towel we wrapped
each other in the night before
after our shower.
She wakes at the sound of me *********
the lock on her bedroom door, begging
Do you really have to go?
I fall into the falsetto of her trance,
tasting her paleness before I've even
begun to kiss her skin to sleep again.
She sighs as I fit the mold,
wrapping my arms around her frailty,
tucking this Saturday night episode
under the bed skirt.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
I still cry over you.
I still mourn the love we had.
As pure as it was.
I never thought we'd be here.
Though another love has graced me,
I miss your unique touch
And the way you appreciated me.
Mistakes make us.
And break us.
I don't blame you.
I never did.
I can't listen to Van Halen
Or watch more of the shows we binged
Or even eat popcorn
Without thinking of you and everything we had.
Nostalgia plagues me
And keeps me feeling
Even though I shouldn't.
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 12:46 PM UTC
I think that candlesticks
grow from out of the ground and believe that
I can reach starvation by not going
out dancing
for two nights in a row. The sunlight makes me *****
and undeserving of his love
because now everyone can see why I am
not good enough.
I created this loneliness all on my own,
there is a gap between the ring and my finger
second farthest from the left –
men put so much weight on whether or
not my ring finger
is metal plated. I guess I do, too. My hands purge
after they have binged on him
and when I promised
all my lovers that
I would get lighter for them if they wanted,
he bought me a white dress
which lights me up like a match or shooting star.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
My heart doth stall and falter so
when er' my love thou hath to go
and yet my pain I never show
for fear that I should hurt thee.
For thine Hazel eyes and Chestnut hair
and snow drop skin so white, so fair
doth at my heart and soul so tear
when er' thou don't believe me.
My mind doth wander so unhinged
and lips once cool now embers singed
that on your kisses quaffed and binged
so often and so freely
For bitter cup pressed here to lips
as time once more from fingers slips
and or' my words my poor tongue trips
trying hard to tell thee
to tell you
to tell you what
to stay to never leave
to just for once me words believe
to see I seek not to deceive
But only here to love you
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 9:04 AM UTC
Binged and popping pills. Drinking when it suits me, OK! not really!. So my mouth is real dry and my nose is caked with white flakes of god knows what. I know the internet is full of so much **** that it's an endless destination of last resorts. Brain matter and whiteboard debris slipping through the cracks of the wooden planks that they called upper east side mahogany. The walls ran cosmic and were still consumed with green stained heat pipes that retained this odor of olden days and foot powder. Where did I place myself when I opened the door and saw the crimson marauder laying before me? Where have I placed myself? Where is this place! I'm looking up, I'm looking up, I'm looking up and my fists are clenched and I anguish @ you. Where have I placed myself! WHERE HAVE I PLACED MYSELF!
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
He likes reading Russian poetry and she likes listening to him whisper it through the phone.
She likes watching sitcoms, dramas, and really anything available on Netflix steaming and he likes teasing her about it on the way home.
They like to distract themselves and pretend everything's alright. They like to text and talk every week night.
They fit well, like out of a storybook page, or a rhyme in an old song that you would hear on your dad’s iPod on shuffle. Except there was one thing they overlooked all those nights talking about everything and nothing over and over till the sun would rise.
She never could watch the last episode of the shows she binged, but he always read the last page of the books he read. She was afraid of endings and goodbyes.
So when the clock struck twelve and it was time to go home, only one was doomed to a life of bathroom floors, empty stomachs, and dull, dead eyes.
-bcg (i was afraid of endings and when you asked me i told you i would be fine
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
But now we can communicate.
I am not sure what cause this sort of block.
Under normal circumstances I suppose it's human.
To access so much of ourselves mentally.
Yet physically remain mute.
An attempt to be funny. Charismatic.
To yearn the manifestation of being represented such as a memory.
For some it's easy. It becomes culture.
Ignoring this association of fear.
Although slight. We begin to judge ourselves.
In fight beyond a couple of seconds that leads to bliss.
The things that have yet developed.
The possibility that things may not.
But definitely something is there. Reflected from the light of eyes.
Self doubt in light of holding back.
Yet we've evolved.
We've evolved into a splitting image of what we adorn.
The critique of what eyes see & what ears have heard.
We've thought in different ways of what binds.
Now we communicate.
To better service our needs, our wants.
We've binged them all.
Knowing all of our favorite parts, to speak hesitantly about the bad.
We recite them only in private.
Ignoring the kick backs and *** lucks that begin with pleasure.
It begins with the closed culture of what feels foreign
to no longer recite in mental.
Now we communicate
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
White walls, blank looks,
scattered papers and messy thoughts -
that is what my life consists of right now.
And birds are probably chirping outside
in the spring sun and people are gathering
together in song and in meal and in love.
But I find no interest.
I look forward at the white walls
that have turned beige and the blank looks
that have transformed into sleepy stares,
and I cannot pinpoint the one thing
that is getting me by.
I live to....
what?
To sleep all day to escape the noise and
stay up all night to waste time with silence.
The one thing I despised became
the only thing that kept its promise.
There are papers on the floor and
old clothes on my back and
I can't seem to blink without trying.
For the life of me,
I want to feel alive again;
I want to see the bird chirping and the sun set.
I want to taste the breeze hitting
my cheeks flushing them red,
and for life to kiss my lips as if
they were wishing me goodnight.
But instead, I see white walls
and blank looks.
Scattered thoughts are being binged
on scattered sheets of paper
in hopes of getting rid of the voices in my head.
They do not forget to make you remember.
And the whispers are getting louder:
"Close your eyes for a bit darling, even if you want them shut forever."
gd
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
Imagine my conniption and slipping
When I noticed the man in the mirror was missing
I folded into self destruction and binged self hate
Before I was light, till sadness added weight
Then you came through the walls I erected
Inspired by your vivacity and charm I became connected
And under the Christmas tree you laid fair
In my glee, I knew I had never been there
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 9:45 PM UTC
I went to our special spot today
With a cigarette and a pen
It was still breathtaking.
For the first time in years
I felt small.
You see,
Since I was a child
I have always been overweight.
It used to consume me
It was all I could notice when I looked at myself
Since I was nine
I stashed food and binged
While at thirteen I started purging
As an effort to control my apparent largeness.
Here, I am surrounded by cliffs, rocks and trees
That tower over me
Finally, I am the smallest one in the room
And yet I feel on top of the world.
I am sad to report this place is changing
The stream we used to splash in
Has dried up.
The log where we used to sit
On which you educated me about *** boys and family
As well as everything in between
Is rotten and soggy.
I am not fond of such changes
Because we both changed too.
You could not shake a ****** addiction
And it eventually took you home.
I, myself, battle
Mental illness and recovery from self-inflicted abuses
That, after one particular incident,
Almost sent me to heaven, too
One more thing before I let you go
I'm sure you're busy, but I wanted you to know
That the cigarette still remains unlit
In my sweatshirt pocket
Not because I forgot a lighter
(Although I did)
But mostly because this overbearing forest
Is my only sacred memory of you
And I could never allow that to
Go up in smoke.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC