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"Don't drink your calories—
unless you want to get drunk."

Her eyes trembled with tears

Weakness stretches out,
not searching strength—
for another soul to be
weak with

A heavy languor spilled into the room
all she can think about
is the patterned ceiling,
which was a book for her to read
while entwined in damp blue sheets
Kate Apr 4
Calories
200
400
600
800
200
400
600
800
Repeat
2,4,6,8
Need to lose weight
2,4,6,8
Fast
Still not enough
Pill
2,2,2,2
0
Dead
Fiona May 7
I'm a black belt binge eater
Undefeated diet cheater

In the fridge night and day
Doing what my tastebuds say

Racking the calories up like a boss
Teeth so busy got no time to floss

Fridge light on, fridge light off
Attracted like a dancing moth
Lost Soul Mar 1
drip... drip ..drip
feel the cold water
hit your empty stomach
just take little sips
stomach growls lull me to sleep
i don't like a full stomach
i don't care that it makes me weak
i don't see a cookie
i see 120 calories
22.8 g carbs, 14.4 g sugar
this is my daily life I'm not a rookie
water has zero grams
of sugar,carbs and calories
so I drink water
i have water for dinner
and for a snack
i avoid the scale
i don't weight myself anymore
cause it makes me feel more like
a beached whale
i don't eat breakfast
i eat one meal at 3pm
some people notice so
i just lie and say I'm fasting...
jane taylor Jun 2016
my favorite thing
would be that writing poems
worked off calories

:0)

©2016janetaylor
Alaina Moore Jul 2018
So I just did some math.
This week,
according to the numbers,
I've consumed on average
375 calories a day.
Call it 500.
I have no appetite;
I'm stressed;
It's hot;
I'm ill.
This relapse is
not like the ones I know.
It's so subconscious
I'm drowning
trying to fix it.
I tremble as I write this.
I don't know how I get through the day.
But I do know,
there is a mountain
of responsibilities
that I must manage
regardless.
I can't just over medicate
and play games
when I'm stressed.
I can't rest when I'm sick.
I must bare it all,
for both of us.
I'm being crushed
by this mountain.
Honestly don't know if this poem makes sense.
Osiria Melody Mar 24
"Smoke ****, not cigarettes."
stood the calmness in your chest.
inhale the soothing, healthy greens.

fall awake in a state of mind where
time never stays to sleep.
energize me with the raspy air,
gasping for more of another hit.
it doesn't botha me that you're chill
like that.

5 AM, get up like light never knew
how to glow.
swim in your pool of thoughts until
you think your brain will rot.
feelin' a bit hungry, so eat mountains
of calories.

12 PM, choreography of rolling another
blunt: step 1, 2, 3....
pass on the soothing healthy greens to
everybody.
it doesn't botha me that you're chill like
that.

your eyes are watery and bloodshot like
the capillaries, arteries, veins in my body.
5 PM hits with red rose petals blazing
brighter than red: what color is that?

feelin' a bit tired, but there's no need to
count sheep when you could count the
cigarettes that you never kissed again.



Melody
3/24/19
To my dear friend (who stated the words that
I quoted),
I am not mocking your words. My artistic mind caught fire and this piece was salvaged from the ashes of my creativity. What you said impacted me so much that I felt like writing this piece. Everything's fabricated, except for your words that I quoted.
Jarene Oct 2018
34
24
34
the numbers controlling my life
the numbers that i strive to be
pure perfection
causing my body to eat itself
while it withers away
into nothingness

im exhausted
trapped in hell
a hell created by numbers on a measuring tape
just one less calorie and i'll be okay
i'll be happy
finally beautiful enough

300
the calories fueling me through my days
as i drag along
until i find myself
closer
to the edge
of self destruction

deeper in hell i fall
trapped even further in the darkness
praying i can find my way
back to the light
back to sanity

ugh
i want my life back
i want to know what it is like
to wake up in the morning loving yourself
to look in the mirror not hating
every aspect
of the person
in front of you
to get through a day without
having to shield your face
to hide the burning tears
rolling down your cheeks  
to not have the
destructive thoughts
waiting
to drag you though the dirt
when you think you are finally okay

i want to know what it's like to be me
again
Join me on my journey to self love and enlightenment. Through all the pain, the good days, and the bad. This is me in the raw, completely bare, and valunarable. This is for al the people out there that are also suffering. Let's grow together. You are not alone!!!
Hundred people walked beside me
with different faces, different scents.
Every step is a manifestation
of dripping sweat from burnt calories!
365 Poems for my 365 Days

3 of 365
Willoughby Aug 2018
I'd love to peer into that brain of yours and see the actual mechanics of your thinking.  Where those creative juices of yours throb and pulse. Ya, I'll drink to that.

   Maybe use one of them scopes to explore the left ventricle of your heart (you know, that chamber of the Heart that pumps blood through the aorta).  Figure out that sensitive heart of yours.

   Explore the rubber consistency of the lining of your lungs. With that heaving chest and ******* of yours, those lungs must be so healthy in their pinkish hue.   Just some barstool thoughts while waiting for closing time.

   Staring into this shot glass in front of me, my memory harkens back to the time you cut your arm and I ****** the blood from it, so salty and all.  I want to bottle you up in a liquid formula or capsulize your essence in a unique pill form where I can digest and absorb you and grow new cells from the energy I receive from the calories of your precious body.

   Maybe with the power of your bodies flesh I can grow a sixth toe, develop a third eye, build an *****.  I love you so much I could eat you up!

   Barkeep says this is last call so I better drink up and be on my way.  I wonder what your left ventricle really looks like under close inspection?  
   Just wondering, do you have any x-rays of your body I could have?
                                             See ya,   Creepy  Ray Ray
Willoughby  NEWSLETTER:   Coming soon, more Willoughby life rules and yes, this isn't the last you've heard from Creepy Ray Ray.  Also, middle of next month in honor of National Sheep Day the long awaited posting of "My Wife is a Sheep". Sweet anticipation!  And finally if your a little creeped out or shocked ---- Exactly!
cleo Jun 2017
sometimes it's hard
just to pick up a fork.
i find myself too weak, arms too limp
excuses
upon
excuses
piled like a house of cards,
one breeze and i’ll blow away with it.
you won’t be able to catch me,
to stop me,
i can’t even do that myself.

my heart is heavy,
stomach empty,
i still struggle to eat daily but i’m trying.
i do it just to spite those voices in my head  
when i should be doing it for me, but
it’s hard to block them out  
when they sound a lot like my mother.

sometimes it’s hard
just being alive,
hard to get out of bed when
the weight of the world is pressing down on you
hard not wanting to die
when the sweet release of these demons is all you find yourself
thinking about,
dreaming about anymore.
dreams of floating through the sky
like the clouds passing;
i’m jealous of the way they hang there, gracefully.
i want to be just like them but
i can’t trust myself not to
fall
back
down
to earth,
i’ve done it too many times before.

i’ve got to remind myself that
recovery takes time.
i’ll never unlearn the calories in a raspberry
but at least now i can drink a glass of orange juice
without shedding a single tear.
sure it’s laced with *****
but don’t worry. it’s not a problem
it’s a coping method,
one you might not approve of but one that works, see
over time the scars on my arms have faded
heart less heavy,
stomach still empty
well, not completely empty
but that’s progress right?
Lizzy Jan 2015
Our mutual friend convinced me to spill my secrets to him. I had been holding back the truth because it seemed that every time I let its sour taste roll off my lips, I was once again left alone. But my therapist says I need to open up to people, to get rid of these “surface relationships”. So, for once in my life, I took the doctor’s orders.
I wasn’t planning for it to happen this way though. My mom dropped me off at his house and I opened the door to deafening Joy Division; (not that I minded but) I was taken by surprise. It went as usual to start, danced to some music and shared some cigarettes. Then we get talking about our writing, how blunt and honest mine is and how cryptic and nonsensical his is. So I read him my most recent words; he found them amusing but began asking questions. I answered as non-descriptively as possible. But then we began talking about the horrors he’s seen. He told me that he didn’t know if he could see more skeletons and blood. But I told him about mine anyway.
We moved to the porch so he could have his cigarettes. And I began to let my guard down. I told him about my ****** past and gory thoughts. I told him, with hesitation, that I was trying so hard but it’s a cycle. And finally, I stutteringly told him about my obsession with perfection. He knew I wasn’t normal but he didn’t know I forced myself to expel calories. He seemed un-phased and unimpressed. There was a brief silence before he said “What do you want from me?” What did I want?  I thought all I wanted was to tell him the truth and let him in but he had me second guessing. I did my best to answer the question how I thought he wanted.
He went on to tell me his drugs could help. I was already filled with prescribed and un-prescribed chemicals, but now he wanted me to add to the toxic brew flooding my veins. “I think dropping some good acid with some good people could change your perspective on things”. No ****. It would completely boil the poison that was already within me. I began to feel anger swell inside me, how could he suggest something so stupid? What have I gotten myself into? I respectfully declined his offer and did my best to pretend he never said that.
When suddenly he sat down, looked me in the eyes (mine quickly shifted from his) and said “Ask me about David”. David? What did he have to do with any of this? What kind of reverse psychology ******* was he trying to pull? I complied and began to ask about the day’s events and about David as a person. But apparently these weren’t the right questions.
Eventually he drove me home. I hopped out of the car and so did he. (That’s a first.) As we hugged goodbye, I knew what was coming. I went to pull away but he pulled me closer. That’s when I was positive I was about to hear it. He gently let go and said,
“Lizzy, I think we have to take some time apart.”
“Why?”
“I just can’t do this right now.”
I pulled away from his hand and turned to walk inside before I punched him right in his oddly prominent jaw. Right before I opened the door I turned back to him one last time. His eyes looked sad and seemed to say “I’m sorry”. While I’m pretty sure mine said “*******.”
My hypothesis was confirmed. No one wants to hear the sob story. No one wants to be around the freak. I’m starting to think I really am better off with “surface relationships”.
Brain exploding, like popcorn, hearing you sing
Hot oil, blisters in patches, snatches of conversation
One nation, under fraud, sideways schemes means lives taken
Love shaken down to dust and nothing
There is something, hovering on the edge of imaginary periphery
A sip to see if it's poison
Lost Soul Oct 2018
Eat
sometimes i dont eat
the longest i've gone
is three weeks
i lay in bed ,my stomach in knots
cant stand up too quickly
dont wanna see spots
my body failed me again
bile came, hunger left
i cant quite remember when
water is my only friend
it soothes the hurt
acid reflux temporarily ends
water runs down my throat
when i move, it sloshes in my belly
sound like waves against a boat  
heartburn comes at night
my body and brain are at war
im kept awake while they fight
headaches come back
it hurts to open my eyes
i know its from the calories i lack
when i can handle a taste other then bile
i eat and eat , i'm called a pork chop
i know its a joke so i hide the pain with a smile
if only they knew
how i hate my body
and the pants sizes i blew
but its something i keep to myself
no need to bother someone else
its not like am a fragile doll on a shelf
....or am I ?
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