"binges" poems
Crafty, they say, He's getting crafty
crafty with my lies and my made-up meals
crafty with my sound-blocking tactics
crafty with hiding the burning lines of white and red.
Baking, they say, He's getting into baking
baking my binges
baking my restriction
baking my omad
baking my sad-looking low-cal low-fat low-sugar low-carb high-protein
'meal'.
Crochet, they say, He's getting into crochet
crocheting ankle warmers to make my legs look skinny
half-finger gloves in an attempt to curb the permafrost that has begun to
knit itself around my bones.
Healthy, they say, He's getting healthy
as i workout until i faint
and do sit-ups until i have bruises on my spine.
fruit and veg and vitamins take priority
and suddenly i have taken an interest in running.
Sep 18, 2022
Sep 18, 2022 at 12:40 PM UTC
Do you see these nails that are bitten and torn to shreds.
Do you see my hair that is mangled and tangled, it hasn't been washed in days.
Do you see this acne on my face, I pick at it till it leaves scars.
Do you see the clothes I'm wearing, I bet I haven't changed them in weeks.
Do you see this room, I haven't cleaned it in months
Do you see my teeth, they bleed because I haven't brushed them in awhile.
Do you see I go on binges of eating or not eating, cause I feel guilty.
Do you see I go on benders if drinking or smoking.
Do you see my eyes and face are red from crying recently.
Do you see my texts I never send cause you wouldn't care.
Do you see when I say "I'm ok", "I'm fine" that those are just lies.
Do you see my smile and laugh, it's mostly fake.
Do you see how I sleep all day and wake up and go right back to bed.
You don't see but you should.
This list could go on for infinitely.
It's signs like this that should be noticed.
Depression, anxiety or any mental illness is important for learning the signs.
Your story matters just as well as your voice.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 5:24 PM UTC
we always want to re-invent ourselves when we feel
rejected, unwanted, left to the side.
we dye our hair or cut our hair or style our hair
so differently, so drastically, so unrecognizable.
we pack on make-up or strip our make-up
or pierce our faces, belly buttons, get tattoos, choose a permanent mark
to remind us of something solid;
something that represents
self-sufficiency or this too shall pass,
because we know we are gonna feel
rejected, unwanted, left to the side again
(and again, and again).
we buy new clothes, give away old ones to our friends,
new shoes, new bags, new look.
and we’re always picking up new vices, new habits, new addictions.
cigarettes, alcohol, razors,
all the late night reckless binges on wine, narcotics, food, cutting ourselves.
sometimes we pick up healthy ones too,
like running, swimming, dancing, yoga, meditating, resetting sleep patterns, taking vitamins, treating ourselves to the spa, eating regularly, getting out of the house to see friends.
we either avoid intimacy at all costs because we can’t fathom
the concept of trust anymore
or we dive into it with practically anyone, just to feel something real
because we are so ******* lonely,
but we never really feel anything real at all.
we make resolutions, goals, plans for our next relationships
so that they won’t follow the same patterns as our last crumbling ones
(they usually still do).
some of us change what we like, what we want, what we need
to impress people so that they
fall in love with us and will never leave us.
we begin disregarding ourselves for another person,
or disregarding everyone else for ourselves,
both because we don’t want to get hurt again.
and then somewhere, somehow after weeks, months, maybe even years of
the full fledged wavering of
destruction meeting recovering meeting ignorance meeting shyness meeting loneliness meeting accepting meeting fear,
we start to see the intricacies of the pattern much clearer -
we make all of these sudden changes because
we just want to feel better,
we just want to be better;
that’s all.
it’s taking charge, which is healthy.
it’s also making fact and point that we need to change to deserve love,
which is unhealthy.
all of it is like learning algebra for the first time,
some of us take a bit longer to understand it all; the formulas, the variables, the balance.
and once we understand the formula, the variables and the balance,
then we can welcome back the beautiful,
real version
of ourselves we’ve been trying to
cover up.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
I envy those who can eat without conscience
I long for the infamous day when "things will get better"
I strive for an impossibility that I can feel within my reach
I expend the necessary energy to achieve a negative net
My mind rattles with number and limits
Counting the minutes 'til my next meal
Portion control and restrictions
Fighting the urges of binges
They say I'm just skin and bones
But what I see is all I'll know
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
i don't want to
have these
bipolar
conversations
where i threaten,
and apologize,
and demand,
and apologize
again
i don't mean to take you
through the ringer
to make you see violence
and mood swings
i don't mean to scare you
when i don't take
my medicine
i don't mean to scare you
when i cry
for hours
i don't mean to scare you
when i scream
and punch things
i never meant to
do those things
like keying your car
i never meant to
drop everything
and go across multiple state lines
with no plans
at all
i never meant to hurt myself
until my arms
were coated in scars
for all of the times
i self-medicated
poked myself with needles
and drank away my pain,
i'm sorry
i shouldn't have taken so many xanax
you're right
i was wrong
again
i never meant for you to be
my caretaker
i hate those words
caretaker
i should be able
to take care
of myself
i'm sorry i am not managing this illness
i am very
very
ill
i'm sorry for the times
i couldn't get out of bed
couldn't eat,
couldn't move
couldn't go to work
i'm sorry for the times
i made tons of post-it notes
filled journals with ideas
bought calendars
and organization tools
i'm sorry for getting your hopes up
i really thought i could do it this time
i'm sorry for my diagnosis
i'm sorry i didn't understand how serious this is
i didn't ask to be bipolar
i didn't ask to be born
i make cases for myself
in my head
but they're all filed as
crazy
i'm sorry i was delusional
paranoid
and afraid
i'm sorry for the drug binges
i'm sorry for melting
fading
burning
and still coming back
alive
these low lows
and high highs
you've been through the ringer
when you're only supposed to be
support, a resource of compassion...
you had to be a caretaker
you didn't ask for this
and neither did i
i sometimes questioned if it was harder on you
to live with someone with bipolar disorder
than it was for me
to live with bipolar disorder
you wanted to save me
but you realized
that i can only save myself
now i'm drowning
and my lifeline is gone
i'm trying to learn to swim
i just hope i do it
before i sink
i'm sorry for all of the ****** poetry
i made you read
i'm sorry
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC
eyes like little seaglobes
glass spinning in circles
so wide and unwavering;
a smile that stretched
real tight over
rugged english teeth.
you laughed at the darkest
of my most self loathing jokes
manic words of bulimia
and blow binges.
i fell in love with you second
you fell for me first.
did you think you could save me?
in many ways, you did.
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
I am free
Free as a bee
Free to be.
Whoever I say
Is me.
I can be by myself
I am strong.
Stronger than the gust of wind trying to knock me down.
Stronger than the comments of society that say I can't do it.
Stronger than the fear within us all try to rip out our hearts and tear through us.
Stronger than I ever needed to be,
Because I wanted to be.
I am content.
Content with my life and the way I'm living it, which is probably different than yours.
Content with my body so that when I walk by in the dress that I bought because it was on sale and cute as hell and you make comments, I smile and say it's great isn't it?
Content with the family I have, and the friends I surround myself with.
Content with the job I have, whether or not I have people who treat me like a dog because I'm a server.
I'm content with my late night Netflix binges, and my early morning runs.
I'm content with life.
I'm mentally independent.
Independent enough that I know at the end of the day I just need me.
Independent enough to know that I can be there for myself.
Independent enough that being there for others is a great joy and privilege.
Independent enough that I can go eat at a restaurant alone.
Independent enough that I can spend my own money on myself.
I don't NEED anyone.
If you're in my life, it's by choice.
I WANT you there.
So don't lose that privilege.
I've gotten rid of people who didn't appreciate me and who left me out to dry.
Don't think you're an exception.
You wanna be in my life?
Show me.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
infatuated with me
you became my biggest enemy
something insincere about how you wanted me
i was there to take the edge off
coke binges at the bar every other night
and you wonder why your hairline is moving backwards
you caused my mood to lose all stability then
crying for your attention
you were starving for us to look past your lack of personality
you didn't need a reality show
you needed a reality check
at the time you were 23
way too old for me
you were grasping at straws to be pretty
we can see the crow's feet setting in and your liver failing
no amount of jogging can bring back your peak
you're the biggest cliché
you go to emo night unironically
you said you saw yourself in me
we are not the same
remember you were a prom king
Aug 7, 2021
Aug 7, 2021 at 6:50 PM UTC
i'm sick to death of this stinking routine
perpetual day time TV,
petty bickering
afternoon pub binges
hopeless job hunting morons everywhere,
i return to my hometown
to the place i was made, molded
created
and it suffocates me like never before
i think of the many reasons i left
they circle my thoughts for a long while
and then i'm left with one
one that overrides the lot
it takes a while to spit it out
because it's corny, it's stupid, it's not how we work
but
it's love
and the lack of it
the love here is in the mundane
the easy,
the norm.
it's not in the heart
the love around here lies in
television sets
and pirate DVDs
reduced chicken and new coffee machines
gambles on abused horses
saturday afternoons in the local
cheap holidays to Benidorm
a day trip to lidl
a weekday evening watching the soaps
a phonecall to a family member you don't care about
hours playing candy crush
the love has lost on us humans
the love here, it was lost on me too
it missed me out
they missed me out
it has instead transferred in this
reality tv, selfie indulgent zeitgeist
it has left our silly bodies
and i'm still clinging on
trying to dissapear from that
new century bubble
trying to pick up pieces
of that porcelain mosaic
that old style bric a brac
so long ago forgotten
pressure is everywhere
notifications beep
this tiny block of perspex
waiting to be touched
waiting to be in communication
with someone at the other side of the city
the other side of the world
oh what a sad existence
when all we love is through the inanimate
and not ourselves
but hey thats the way of the world
and we have to accept it
or hate it
because we can't do both
we have to accept our fast paced tumultuous society
always moving through space and time
at times, difficult
painful
hard
sore
but consumerism, capitalism and cronyism
it all exists in this big society
this 'we're all in it together' society
and it cant be ignored.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 5:02 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
record breaking amnesia,
don't remember how to love you,
screaming,
you aim for my face,
I strike for the gut,
where the misery
has nestled in disguise,
symptoms
come in binges,
don't think about
it stretching,
lasting,
coming back again,
anger,
pain,
hatred,
you are blood,
and I still can't pretend,
record breaking amnesia,
don't remember how to love you,
you provide strings
with your support,
meanings
checked at the door,
meaning,
you attach and consume
before we go forth,
and, I
just asked for help,
not a third hand to feed me,
not a list of nasty names,
not a knife in the back,
not another family member trying to bleed me,
honesty, clarity, hope:
record breaking amnesia,
don't remember how to love you
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
It got to the point where we just ******
No snake oil arguments,
No cookie batter eating binges, no street corner improv,
No cold, crazy, middle of the day, psychopath silence,
No clink, clank sulking,
No cuckoldry tears over the kitchen sink.
It was as if we secretly decided,
To pound each other to death,
Or die trying.
Why is this so enjoyable.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
I want you so bad I can feel my heart shudder and jump in my chest whenever we stand close together. I can still feel the burn on my lips and your tongue on my teeth, but I wonder if it’s already out of your mind, forgotten. People do that to me all the time. Forget me, leave me, and I drive them away. I’ve never figured out what I’ve done exactly, it must be different for each person. Maybe for you, it’s because you see I’m unstable. You see I’m a desperate little girl and you don’t have time for that.
Maybe it’s because you don’t want to save me and I’ll always need saving from sleepless nights and crying binges and the streaks of red I’ve put on my flesh.
Maybe it’s because I’m not good enough for you; the newness has worn off enough for you to realize that I’m not pretty enough, or old enough, or calm enough, or good enough. I’m never good enough.
But I want you so bad that I would do anything to be good enough for you. I’d starve myself, I’d dye my hair and buy new clothes, I’d stop drinking tea, I’d stop reading thick books, I’d stop worrying and get rid of my wrinkles, I’d start sleeping and get rid of my sleep bruises, I’d change every single detail about myself…
If it meant you would want me too.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
give us this day our daily
emotional breakdown
and forgive us our
blackout binges
as we forgive those who
starve themselves for perfection
and lead us not into
inherited obesity
deliver us from
the mental ward
**FOR THERE IS SO
MUCH ******
BREAD IN THIS
HOUSE I CAN'T
TAKE IT ANYMORE**
on mlk day i shut my eyes
and see scenes of
squishy white rolls and
pats of margarine
bread
leaden
deadened
feeling in my stomach
*i can't eat any
more bread*
but here it is
in baskets and
coolers in
toasters and
cupboards
my daily bread
made to sustain me
but turned into
the enemy
deliver me
from risen
yeast in
third degrees
a flour coated
tyranny
mind control
through sesame
*swallowing
emotions
down
down
down*
quietly settles
until spring
somewhere between
my hope and skin
you can see me
smile and stand
straight and tall
but what you can't see
is this shouldn't be
my body at all
*give us this day
our daily bread
and give us the strength
to chew meat instead*
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
On the ocean of life I
Dropped thought-pebbles
Resonances in winds
Rebounding in ripples
Actions born in countless waves
Triggering counter-actions!
Cataracts of wonders, suddenly
Vomiting volumes of gold
Pouring golden flames
Into life ocean purities
Bouncing up hills and valleys
In voyage of expectations
Creating realities in emeralds!
Tumbling air in blues
Skies beatific glory binges
In endless waves in azure skies
Echoing sounds of depth
Deeper than the deep
Launching into the Deep
Harvesting immortal gold
Reaping eternal glory!
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 9:28 AM UTC
As the **** of a 12-dollar cigar
touches the tip of the tongue,
the nervous system shoots a signal to the brain,
to process the sweet tinge
of delicious poison
that hits the back of the throat.
Slow suicide, baby,
really doesn't get any smoother.
Human bodies may desire health,
but it’s the mind that struggles
and tests mortality
as the heart races
for the best ****
Hipsters and their vapor pipes,
their overpriced organic groceries,
coke binges and ****** addictions,
gym memberships and spinning classes,
they’re socialized to believe life
goes on forever.
They behave as if death
is a kind of curse.
We can run from sins,
wash our souls in the rain
of fresh lovers in new cities.
Sins, however, collect.
They grow in strength.
All we have in the end,
is the sweet tinge of satisfaction
that comes from killing oneself
in style.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
To the princess trapped in the glass bottle.
Take a few steps back, I'm going to bust the glass and catch you before you fall.
If all else fails, at least we'll have this memory to stand above all else.
I've walked passed you once before,
I never thought to stop.
Reason,
Your lips turned up right, eyes quick to roll.
The silent treatment of turned backs. Ill gotten tempers.
I never once thought through all the complications that the glass was actually dingy.
That you actually could have been tired of being passed up because of how high up you were, the trouble of broken glass.
Jagged grooves. Smooth binges, blind understatements.
I applogize on my behalf,
The labels aren't anywhere as good as they use to be. but I promise.
If you make that silly face one more time.
That one face that equates to "duh"
I'm throwing this rock right at your head.
If you were anymore transparent, I could swear you just rolled your eyes again
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
My life as of last has been and eye opening, head first dive of exploration interrupted by one, sometimes two day long binges of unpleasant sobriety.
Three long years after writing the first stanza,
The drugs still being explored
This has led me to a more beautiful understanding of myself and my few remaining friends
However it seems that I have taken a significant tumble down the socioeconomic ladder
At least my writing has gotten neater
No longer shaken by the withdrawal of a still desired drug
Alcohol has a way of calming and inspiring me
Bringing forth the thoughts I cannot make into sound
My few remaining friends cut down into a seemingly impossible smaller number
I now awake in the night with cold sweats that interrupt my slumber.
Dreams of panic and anxiety, Now clouded with past faces.
Personifications of things inside me
Faces made of thoughts and feelings, Taking over occupied spaces
Forcing out the beautiful and imaginative
Subconscious taking charge, So the conscious may live.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 8:09 PM UTC
at curiosity’s urging
he found haven in haiku
a safe place where people listened
without judging
a thread to test truth’s waters
and tell his story
a 5-7-5 sequence as larynx
giving voice to childhood horrors
beaten regularly with a rubber garden hose
that left no outward evidence
bleeding so badly
he lost a kidney
too terrified to tell the doctor
with his father standing right there
it was a secret kept in the family
her verbal belittlement inculcated
“you should have never been born”
“we can’t afford you”
when he brought home all A’s
they said, “your classes were too easy”
his older brother mercilessly joined the chorus
and the torture
with parental approval
still, his eyes saw beauty
they saw river rocks as hippos
submerged in a backyard creek
they watched in awe at the flight of owls and hawks
swooping down on their prey
they described a “sapphire lake”
“so blue it was almost black”
“a jewel in the belly of the Sierras”
they captured trees and blades of grass
and fallen giants in petrified forests
they found a wife who loved him anyway
despite alcoholic binges and blackouts
his poems told of years of loneliness she erased
they spoke of her as sole reason for sobriety
he found peace in poetry
and used the internet to vent his wise *** ways
at times he even spoke of his family
as if they were decent
but every November remembered
his birth month dredging up the past
he wrote of whispering demons haunting his heart
and scars on the soul that never heal
I can’t imagine his pain
or sense of normalcy
they killed this kid when he was little
but it took him four decades to die
last Friday my friend took his own life
he called me a gentleman and a scholar
and formally thanked me
for encouraging his writing
he defended me in the face of trolls
even though we never met in person
I hope he knows how much we all cared
and I hope there’s a heaven
where he can rest in peace
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 3:43 PM UTC
welcome to my life
full of glitz and glamour
**** and clamor
stipper poles and alcoholic binges
dark holes and ***** syringes
happiness then suicide
smiles and selfish pride
i get so high
and fall so low
i get so happy
and then i just dont know
what am i doing here in this god forsaken place
the guitar helps me get through
the words help me make sense of it all
melody flows through me
the butterflys churn endlessley in my stomach
waiting for the crowd to assemble
waiting for the silence to rumble
waiting for the stage to go dark
waiting for the spotlight and the spark
and then i sing
o
i sing
to everyone and to no one
and then all my glorious, decadent **** for a life somehow shines
when those empty sea of eyes meet mine
and i sing a song
and i sing a song
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 3:29 PM UTC
*Dreaming of the day
that my alcoholic binges
will finally drown my over-thinking mind....*
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
Binges, binge this, binge that.
Never tried twack, nor crack,
40+ Unisom Sleep Gels,
Put me in some intense sleep spells.
Tried my first Xan,
ate all 14 blues in my hand.
Still hadn't even had ***
Didn't have a phone to text.
I ate 63 Unisom this time,
but I knew I felt fine.
Walked in the night through my town,
till those Webb City cops had to put me down.
Got a really awesome plug,
taught me how to deal and ****
Tried twak, crack and sold it to my city,
I could get a gram for fifty.
Caught my first DWI,
dude I'm not drunk! but I was high.
I sat in the Jasper County Jail,
read all the bible while I was in my cell.
Got my best friend pregnant,
man life was really pleasant.
4 months my seed dies,
only God could hear my cries.
7 bottles of cough suppressant,
God came to me in my coma segment.
I had no intentions of turning away,
I was living my life day for day.
Shot my first handgun,
I started my life on the run.
I hated the world and I hated myself,
I had everything except for help.
3 hits of acid, 1 bottle of cough syrup, some **** DMT, and Hash.
My 20th birthday had to be a bash.
I saw a dragon hatch from the sky,
I swore we all were gonna die.
I couldn't wait for the world to end,
I had not a single friend everyone was for pretend.
Started going by Okey Dokey,
caused more mischief than Loki!
I wound myself down with a girl,
I thought she was my world.
We thought we were in love,
but we just loved to rub.
Left her after a week of being locked up,
I wanted to be like a lotus that grows from the muck.
I found a relationship with my Lord and Saviour,
I couldn't believe that what he had set for me later!
Turning the age of 22 and confined,
I was started to see becoming less blind.
I was baptized in the jail,
I gave up my feelings to fail!
Now here I am,
becoming a man.
I live in a Church now,
may peace and love be with you, Chow!
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Do you see this smile?
You fixed it here,
when you are near
it blossoms open like a lotus.
You know my heart is like a stage play,
I have showed this thing to everyone
and their mother,
but
I've come to learn a thing about fire.
How it relates to love
and more specifically to us.
I've learned that lust, even when laced
with genuine sincerity among the fringes,
is a wild fire
that binges on gasoline and dry wood.
It burns long and bright,
but doesn;t always last the night.
I've come to learn a thing about fire,
how it relates to the emotion I feel
when I peel myself from the bed
and you are still there,
a love planted in the soil of respect,
with admiration as fertilizer
is hardly a flame at all.
It is a candle flame,
that stays within bounds
and unless smothered
will last the life of the candle.
Call me sentimental, call me a poet
I love the things you call me
and you **** well know it.
There will be no other ways to show it
because although my heart us a stage play
with comedy component,
I have shown it to everybody,
but only you own it.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 1:56 AM UTC
i saw us
4 cars and a lake house, making friends all over this town, nothing holding us back
3 dogs and a sunset, laughing until there’s no air left, netflix binges on our couch
2 matching starbs tumblers, getting mexican food when our stomachs rumble, stargazing pretty far our
1 walk down the aisle, listening to morgan all the while, smiles on the way out
but instead it’s time to let you go
but i hope you know i’ll always love you so
Aug 14, 2022
Aug 14, 2022 at 11:33 PM UTC