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Aug 2017
my body is thick like a tree trunk. the leaves that cling on are the hairs the razor missed last night. the branches are my arms that are becoming weak like sticks every day because i can't bench more than the bar. my body is a home where iΒ Β used to leave the door wide open and now it's slammed shut with a padlock but that's not enough to keep the hatred from coming in. my body says you need dresser drawers, bed frames,chairs,couches to keep that door from ever opening again. my body is a sanctuary filled with "likes and ums" because my tounge ran out of locutions a long time ago. my body is an algebra 1 class i've learned to hate. learned like it was something i had to practice perfectly. like it was some sort of equation and i finally solved it. my body is a landfill that can't seem to make it to the home depot to buy soil to cover up the stretch marks, the scars,the bumps from the razor, the cellulite that aligns every inch of my thighs,all of these deficiencies are waste that are crumbling into the dirt. my body is a thrift store that only sells baggy mom jeans and asthetic sweaters but that's never been enough to please my closet. my body is april 8th a birthday full of craziness. my body said try not eating. neglected . deprived from any nutrients. i was pleased when a cool droplet of waterΒ Β slid down my throat making me feel like antarctica was at my fingertips. i let my cheek bones narrow in. let my hip bones stab every person i embraced. bringing them in just so i could feel accomplished for proving there was something under the fat. letting my lips crinkle and turn a light purple not even chap stick was enough to save them. my body is a broken heart, glass shards skewered like shesh kebabs in my aorta. squirting out the barbarous memories of you. ripping me into pieces and burying me in a place i didn't know existed. my body is an hourglass that's always seems to run out of time but my body isn't skinny in the middle. the sand inside is my weathered down dreams that i've yet to succeed it always seems to get stuck in the middle and i fill it up with more sand that gets stuck in the middle and it all just ends up in my stomach making me want to ***** up everything i ate that day but i don't have the strength to put my finger down my throat. i don't have the strength to put up this fight. i'm using my long nails to gut my mouth open like a cantaloupe **** every taste bud and then i'll never know the difference between celery and candy.
Niesha Radovanic
Written by
Niesha Radovanic
  425
       blushing prince, sadgirl and Anthony Perry
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