Are there strategies to displace binge eating
with binge doing?
Wouldn't it be swell to get $ for binge coding?
something like:

poem.each do |word|
money = word.compose(your.wordstream)
end

More efficient monetizing of your thoughts.
More efficient cars and buses.
Correlarry: more paved roads, driveways and concrete surfaces,
therefore, more runoff pollution.

It's not the end game
yet, but a vast,
complicated middle game
with closed centers
and deep positional
Play.

Will our grandmasters make
a mistake real-time playing?

Slipping on her cold blood
Indulgence uncorked
Champagne laced with poison ivy
Euphoria unfolded lapping up
The leftovers of another man's bliss
He got caught in the fish net stockings
Of a poledancer thinking
How the he'll did I miss that
The girl had ***** and a ten inch
Rocket
Tied to a crack in her back pocket

"Bulimia nervosa, an eating disorder that involves bingeing on food followed by purging, can cause gum disease, osteoporosis, kidney disease, heart disease, and death. Bulimia affects mostly women and teens." - WebMD.com*

My eyes blurred as I wiped away the remaining evidence from my mouth.
I cried.

It seems that bulimia had taken over my life these past couple of months.
Even my hands shake now.
For some reason, I didn't seem to care that I could give myself cancer with this, that I could die from this.

My headaches have gotten worse, my depression even more intense.
And my poor, sweet mother, willing to believe that I am sick and NOT doing this to myself.

Could I really do this to her?
She now has the duty to care for several children that are not hers because she cares too much.
She tries, but she no longer listens to her own children.

My mother is broken.
Revealing this to her will only break her more.

So I'll keep quiet.
Purging and ridding myself of my shame and self respect.
What could possibly be worse?

I sleep at my mother's
My wife has repossessed
The bed and my neighbour
Does the plumbing etc.....

EDNOS is:
 confusion.

-starving for days,
 then bingeing every day for a week.

-puking until you see blood, 
because you failed yet again.

-starving again, 
because you’re too fat to function.

-puking some more,
 because you’re not strong enough.
EDNOS is: 
manic.

-running for hours,
 because running makes you thin.

-exercising in the early morning,
because every minute counts.

-constantly fidgeting, 
because moving burns calories.

-counting calories like a pro,
 because everything has to be exact.

-organizing everything,
 because it calms you down.
EDNOS is:
 horrible.

-pulling your head out of the toilet,
with tears running down your face and puke all over.

-fake smiling at everyone,
 because no one would believe you if you were honest.

-your mind spinning 100miles/hour,
 because demons control your thoughts.

-comparing yourself to everyone you see,
 because you’re too fat to be a part of society.

-wanting to die every second, 
because you’re not perfect.
EDNOS is:
 me.

I wonder how much sugar it'll take
To drown your bitter aftertaste

09/29/13
Define Happiness.
      Here I go: I do not believe I know the definition of Happiness. Not because I’ve never truly experienced it before, but because I think of it as a word with a great amount of meaning, such as the word “love”, but is overused and thrown around by mindless children. A boy once told me that he “loves” me. I explained to him that he is sixteen and does not know what love is and neither do I, so please don’t say that you love me. But because I am sure you will not accept an “I don’t know” as a response, I will try my best to define Happiness.
      My kind of Happiness comes in three different levels. First, the top level, the most superficial one of all, is the in between. I am a strange person and one of my strange qualities is that I am the happiest when I am in need of something. Let me explain: I hate being at home. I want to leave the overbearing side of my mother and my desolate home drenched in memories of my ****** past. In November of last year, I needed to clear my mind and visited my brother in Montreal. However, once I arrived in the pale city, I wanted to fly back home immediately. See the problem? I have since then realized that I am happiest when I am in between two worlds: travelling from a city that I hate but grew up in, to a city that I love but am lost in. Another example: there is a boy that I like; and when he leaves my side, I can’t help imagining the moment when he finally grips my hand firmly again. But once that moment comes, I want it to end. Immediately. I want to be on my own. Once again, I am happiest when I am left alone to imagine a scene of being with someone or something that I so dreadfully need but am disappointed when that opportunity comes.
      Second, the next and more profound level of my Happiness is comfort. Happiness here is all about talking about your secrets with people whom you do not truly know yet but share the same history with. You have just met these people and already you speak to them about the spots on your body where you like to cut the most and the amount of weight you lost in a month and the foods you so shamefully enjoy bingeing on and in what ways you’ve thought about killing yourself and the things you were so close to doing such as taking a hammer to your scale because you were fed up with it always admitting that you’re fat fat fat fat fat!!!! However, on this second level, Happiness is also proclaiming that you want Wendy’s because that is what your body is unfortunately craving, and then finishing a chicken sandwich and small fries and diet coke with no ice while sitting in a car, understanding that you will not be able to burn off the hundreds of calories you have just taken in because you are stuck on a five hour drive to visit your dear sister. On this second level, Happiness is putting ******* between your thighs and feeling them touch, pinching your double chin, and rubbing your bloated belly for four seconds then shrugging off your imperfections and driving to school without even thinking about them anymore.
      Finally, the third and most heartfelt level of my Happiness is associated with security. Happiness here is walking through a graveyard and knowing for a fact that you will die soon too so please don’t think you’re stuck like this forever. On this level, my Happiness is the thought shoved in the back of my mind reminding me that there is a blade hidden in a pretty shoe box in the corner of my closet, always accessible and always prepared to cure the pain I can’t seem to rip out from under my flesh. On this level, my Happiness is looking down at my thighs and caressing the scars that I try so hard to hide yet am so attached to because they keep me safe in times of desperation, reminding me that I bleed and feel pain (thank God). On this level, my Happiness is my mortality.

To eat or not to eat, that is the question.
A doughnut, ******, airy I’ll consume--
adjust my diet later to make room--
or falsely reject pastries’ sweet delight
while bingeing pasta deep into the night?
Doughnut, thou art satisfying, sweetly
filling morsel, savored now discreetly—
perhaps a little midday’s sugar craving
is better solaced, hunger I’ll be staving
off, resisting better night time craves.
‘Tis better, easier to have the faves;
by portions small on calories I’ll save,
and skip on other dishes that don’t taste
as sweet and crispy, but go straight to waist.

It’s like when you’re little
And you notice yourself breathing
And wonder if you’ve been breathing this whole time
Or if it only happens when you think about it
Well, I’ve been thinking much too hard for a long time
So hard that I didn’t notice
The world forming a routine around me
And my unconscious willingness to fall in line

The girl who shunned the lemmings
Followed the crowd all the same

I considered myself a product of anxiety
Not a victim
Not a survivor
But the result of
Someone who thrived on frenetic energy
As worries danced out a stuttering tachycardia

This is the life I was given
Though I prayed for days of calm
Prayed for the safety of routine and predictability
And the comfort they would hold
For I am afraid of nearly everything
So I have been wishing for days without fear
Bowed my head under the Heavens and cried in all the languages I have
Peace, paix, ειρηνη

It was in the pursuit of peace
That I blindly accepted all offers of security
Built myself up with grades and responsibilities and qualifications
With the assurance it would be worth it in the long run
Suddenly I saw the boredom I had asked for
And felt no relief
No comfort
Just the paralyzing fear that I’d settled for a life I did not want

My trembling limbs were made for anxiety
But I’ve been bingeing it
So the lack thereof is just
Empty
It would seem I am addicted to frenzy
Though I always want out
A pendulum between the extremes
Never resting on moderation
Never resting
Period

Night hiking through the last of the giant fields
Deserted farm land in between brand new townhouse complexes
Your new found Australian shepherd is herding us
Charging ahead and circling back to make sure we’re coming

The grass is up to our waists
We’re walking to walk
making daisy chains
testing butter cups under our chins,
******* honeysuckle
lightning bugs flicker

The twilight moon is already high in the sky
Our breath is white -
It’s just a bit too cold out

We smoke and talk and shiver
I keep looking at my watch and can’t concentrate
I start to wish I was home cuddled under blankets bingeing on junk food watching tv.
It’s been a bit too long with you today

After we walk home and you leave, then I miss you

Moonlight.
Finally – sleep.

Gasping for breath
Again.
How many times
Should I pretend?
Smiles and laughter
Scratches and nightmares
After.

Preening and playing
Screaming and bingeing
Contemplating.
Parties with liquor
Bleeding and bruising
Stupor.

Watching and curious
Withering and unconscious
Hideous.
Caress my broken soul
Maybe my spirit's just an empty
Hole.

There is nothing ****, romantic, beautiful or admirable
In starving, bingeing or throwing up.
It doesn’t make you different
And it doesn’t mean you’re in control.
Fish-Bone body,
Spine like shards of glass,
Risking a rupture each time you indulge your
sordid, secret habit.
Why are you trying to find beautiful words
To pretty your ugly, violent acts?
There are none.
There is no beauty
In ***** and bile,
There is nothing to admire
In the punching of your stomach
The water loading,
The blisters on your knuckles
And your grey, grainy skin.

I watched someone die from this.
I refuse to do it again.

I am disappearing.
The bingeing of alcohol and food-
The disorders and the late nights.
They are devouring who I am.

How to cope
With this devastating revelation-
When everything I want to do
Will eventually **** me?

Bingeing on all my sorrows
I can not help but shovel in
All my thoughts and emotions  
That I didn't want to share with a friend
I try to hold it back
I try to resist
But I can't help throw up
All the words I have never wanted to shed.

My fortitude is formed with the force of Brutus' crooked dagger in my back,
These fictional factualities ferment my mentality and thats a fact,
However I refuse to forfeit,
For I am fighting external forces with this existential forklift,
Uplifting my energy, channeling my inner G ,
When I step I centipede then with this the pen I bleed,
Think it's all a process of auto-biology,
I'm always overthinking- in need of an auto-lobotomy,
I'm the hero and the villian in my autobiography,
So its a automatic mutiny for this auto-autonomy,
It's self righteous how felt this self fight us,
It's shelf life is kelp like but felt like years ,
They say that legends never die,
Oh this lonely hell of mine,
The look of death ever present on my absent mind,
Long-winded, but these spurts of happiness are short-lived,
**** bingeing , cups overflowing with beer,
My thoughts Tinted, heavy drinking till I'm light-headed,
I don't eat or get sleep ,
Steady thinking, "where's my life headed??"
Need to stop running my mouth,
Too busy tryin to exercise these demons,
I keep pushing my luck, and im exhausted from this heaving,
Heavy breathing , and sold separately are these hellish hiccups,
My nightmare begind every mornin when I sit up...

Flip,
Flip,
Flip through the pages of a fantasy series,
Always a Series,
You don't want good things to end,
Emerging,
Bingeing,
Hiding,
Takes you away from the wicked and wild,
Cause these friends cant hurt you...

I could write you a letter every day
Instead I filled every May with letters of the alphabet:
A time came for passing through road side inns and
Beaches where you stroked every grain of sand from the
Corners of my face I hid my smiles ensewn on your
Designs to play with my hair stained with sweat and
Every sweet word and edge of your books cutting through my
Faint heart for friends that needed fixing
Grunge rock, emo punk screaming through lungs
Halting for a beat on your eardrum
Inconsistent dates, intolerant of my sarcasm because you are
Jokes made on table tops, bingeing on laughter until I threw up,
Keeping score of words, broken promises and mistakes,
Looking at everything wrong with staying but
Maintaining the balance of a smile and ugly crying at night,
Nicotine in every breath I am consumed in
On top of you on a bench or a bedside table we were
Poetry half-baked excuses so I don't
Question everything we risked to stay, stay alive
Remembering long walks and feeling infinite and the
Same soulmate-seeking sentiment,
Temerity served with every glass of alcohol and
Understanding why you woke up just to fall out of love with
Vicious cycles you can't keep up with getting tired of me but
Who knew things transpired to make way for
Exes and hoes to keep up the act of all the temporary.
Your happiness is above mine but yesterday, remember
Zigzag lines and lies never to coincide
Daydreams and delusional memories
to be replaced with
watching me see who you really are for the first time
as you look through someone else's eyes and feed
her temporary smiles that fill the void
Making it out to a vision of me you can't replace
the taste, the touch, the haste to forget
Like counting backwards and shapeshifting.
Three words that will never mean anything.
Two anxiety attacks per week.
Once we were real and pure
but pitch black and we are back to
Zero.

you’re not an
episode
worth skipping.

you’re a
series
worth bingeing.

I am glad of who I am.
I celebrate my difference
From those who scam
And lie, without diffidence,
Meanwhile, they are godless
And worship Mammon
In the name of holiness;
A practice that is common.

Their sleepless nights
And bingeing on Mylanta
Belies their image of Santa;
Their self-created fantasy
Of being job creators
When the money they create
They keep, and put away
Into offshore banking states.

With no basis for pride.
They can’t celebrate
About what they are,
They can only prevaricate;
Hire companies to help them
To look us in our eye,
Smile in thousand dollar hairdos
And capped teeth then lie.

Not I. My armor is truth,
Saying what and who I am
And letting others know
Their postures are flim-flam!
And as long as they make money
Nothing is commendable but wealth;
They joyfully create a culture
Where there is pride in stealth.

Is this the life you really want?
Meaningless meeting, awkward proceedings;
You cower behind your digital courage
In attempt to quench your thirst.

Is this the life you really want?
Bingeing a liquid just to prohibit:
Life, loneliness, and everything
From breaking down your door.

-

Where were you when he hit me?
Where were you when he touched me?
All these wounds they tear me down
And you insist to trust thee?

Overdoses, drugs, and ***
I'm comatose in my own skin
If you really are the vine,
Where has your lifeline been each time?

I'm reaching out into the darkness
Cause grasping sin is more than nothing
If you demand my love and trust,
Why are you so hesitant to show me something?

To eat or not to eat; that is the question.
A doughnut--******, airy--I’ll consume,
adjust my diet later to make room,
or falsely reject pastries’ sweet delight
while bingeing pasta deep into the night?
Doughnut, thou art satisfying; sweetly
filling morsel, savored now discreetly—
perhaps a little midday’s sugar craving
is better solaced, hunger I’ll be staving
off,  resisting better night time craves.
‘Tis better, easier to have the faves;
by portions small on calories I’ll save
and skip on other dishes that don’t taste
as sweet and crispy, but go straight to waist.

wishing for the buzz of bees
when little feet walk over me
******* blood and leaving dust
how long have I been waiting?

sleeping on the couch
getting kicked out for subtle comforts
the stench of liberation
boiling in my veins
spilling over
the mess is a distraction
creating distractions
reminds me of lost passions

passing ions
all infinite
am I infinite?
coarse
of course
it's a new course!
learning has taught me
that the more you know
the less you want to
and the less I want to
the more I want to
dichotomy of the ever-bingeing
morning-cringing
woman you want to ****
and she wants to ****
and she wants to hide

deception of pride!

I still walk with my head up
lips curled, up
survived last night
no throw up
just throwing up hands
one with a drink
always another one

talking too loud about illegal things

In bed, darkness, no power,
Bingeing on Supernatural,
Terrible pain around the lower lumbar,
Broke, not a single dime in my PayPal;

As my daughter lay sleeping beside me,
My son in the other room with his mother,
I suddenly am aware of the things I fail to see,
That truly I am blessed beyond any mundane bother;

But then again the morning brings its own worries,
My ageing mother afflicted by pain of her sister's loss,
Barely enough to save up for vacation stories,
And a country that does not care about us.

You open your hands to me
they encase a *****, banged up,
pitiful excuse of a heart

and piece by piece I steal it from you.

"You love me right?"

I'm just a parasite looking for validation.
Making sure that you're still going to
feed me.

You see through my deception
But you don't say anything.

It's bigger than an elephant,
this phantom in the room.

But while I was feeding off of your love,
You were bingeing
on mine.

You love to love

And I guess even the empath
does not have the "heart" to put
those pieces back.

The ones that you took with my
false consent.

Because I told you
you could.

That I made you think it was fine.
That all you'd ever need was me.

While I tried to trick you into satisfying my
craving for an emotional connection

I forgot my gasoline.

and without the fire to protect my soft heart
you walked in and ripped it out of my
chest.

As I had barely felt anything there
for years,
I didn't notice it was missing.

Until I left you.

Like a child leaving an overworked
toy in the mud.

We went different ways
you took my heart with you
and I took some loose screws and gears.

When I finally realized what you had done,
I looked back down the path that I had left you on

and you had disappeared
with everything I had.

Bingeing
Rocket blasting off
Can't stop
Numb
Holding my emotions
Throwing them away
The trash can
Are where my emotions lie
Stuffing them down
One by one
Stuck in the cycle

Drag me by the bales
Like piled on the floor
Lead me to the depths of blue's envy
Relinquish those nightmares by bingeing good dreams
Free me with freedom that is not prepared
With the fingers caress the trails of my face
With the thumbs wipe my fear
This is about triumph
No victory
Just a trapped me
Wrapped- in white cloth
Emancipated Oak tree

Hello! O bingeing
loser!

Come out of your
fatigued stamina,
which is so
despondently,
affected by your
broken dreams.

The vigilantness of an
angelically winged being,
is so happy with your
factualness.

Their guiding virtuousness,
gives buddleia hugs to you.
Please stop worrying
and enjoy their serenely
gentilesse.

Shivpriya
# beautifulthingsandemotions