Some have you have seen this already, but I wanted to share this on here for those of you who haven’t…
bulimia
Porcelain
Cold porcelain memories
Dreams, emptied, staring back at me
In the True State they were in back then:
Vile, lifeless —
Acid dreams in porcelain
I remember way back
When I played
When the sun Stayed
That hot cement
We’d throw our pool towels down on it
Lie on our stomachs — dripping wet
Stare at each other excitedly
As if we Knew some Secret Thing
(Something I’ve long since forgotten)
The cool breeze blew over our little-girl backs
With our little-girl secrets and our little-girl laughs
I sometimes wish I could go back
But the memories feel like dreams
Cut to:
The little-girl Blues
I’d stay in my cold, little-girl room
Crying and crying til my eyes met with sleep
Battling possession in my little-girl dreams
The boys at school all made fun of me
I remember how he would say I was
Flat as a Board
Stupid
Fucking ugly
A fat fucking bitch
I remember when the girls laughed
I didn’t know why
I just knew I wasn’t wanted
I wasn’t cool
Tried to fit in
In that suffocating school
Somehow always felt like a fool
Who didn’t ever have a clue
Of what it took or meant to be cool
At home I was told
Don’t let them know
The pain that you feel
They want that, you know
So I hid all the pain
Like a duck – let it roll – but
Life was not taking a little-girl toll
Something closed up in me one day
Quite permanently
I don’t remember the first time I threw up
But I knew I had found
Something for Me
Something to speak when I could not speak
I remember way back
When I played
When the sun Stayed
When I did not know the meaning of Shame
I can hear her laughter now
Little girl, little girl
Please come back out.
Share this:
The Sick Girl
She walks in with her too-loose sweats
Flat ass
Casual tee
Eyes darting about
Until they reach their destination:
The cookie display
The snack-tray
She fingers a bag of BBQ chips
Pursing her lips
Hating and loving the salty sweet things
She gets to the front
She’s ordering
Yep
I can always spot The Sick Girl
I see her mind darting internally
As fast as those eyes
A million thoughts about
What to buy, what to buy!?
But one bag would never be quite the thing
To stop the Pastry Sirens from their incessant singing
And One Cookie is like blasphemy
I mean, really?
Really!?
Really. You must be joking.
As if there were such a thing as One anything
When it comes to her Insatiable Feeding
She can’t fill the hole in her Soul
With any material
Or flour-and-sugar-filled thing
But she’d get an A-plus for trying
And trying
She orders safely ‘til she can go crazy
“Non-fat latte, please.”
Yep. I can always spot The Sick Girl.
She’s at the supermarket now
Free to unleash the Craving Beast
With her unwashed hair in her face
Or Hat or hoodie
Attempting to be incognito as her bony fingers throw in
5 more boxes of Lucky Charms
Or Haagen Daz
Or chocolate-caramel bars
Her manicured nails distracting from
Her knuckle scars
On fingers that help her get every last bit
Out
They help her shout in that silent kind of shout
Because she doesn’t know what the hell to do
But try and numb the pain all out
I would try and meet her gaze and say
Everything will be okay
But the truth is I don’t know
And she thinks she’s hidden, anyway
There, on bright florescent light display
In aisle 3
She’s standing, then, in front of me
The clerk tries to make conversation
As she scans across things no one should eat
The Sick Girl can’t mutter back a single word
‘Cuz talking about the weather is just absurd
When her life is forever hanging in the balance
And you might Judge her but I do not
For we should never mistake Pain for Malice
I walk out, I say a prayer
One day she will be the one in line behind
The Sick Girl.
(Or better yet, there won’t be a Sick Girl to be in line behind.)
Share this:
Death March
I see you all out there –
Dying
With desperate claims of
“I want to be thin!
I will be thin!
Nothing matters but thin!”
And you live in this smallest of worlds
Like your smallest of bodies
Trying to die with at least some victory:
A cry: I was the thinnest!
A bag of bones in a grave.
Oh, yes, girl – you won.
Just look how you won.
Oh, I see you all out there –
Dying
With the extra flesh and fat hanging off your
Helpless body,
Stuffing more food into your face
Creating a barrier between your soul and the world
With your desperate claims of
“I deserve this food!”
Treat? Or punishment of the severest kind?
Your largest of bodies in the very same smallest of worlds.
Small little worlds seem so safe. Ha.
Watts said,
“There is no safety. Seeking it is painful.”
I see you all out there –
Dying
With your sweet, still-beating hearts.
The hearts you have always had, that have been hurt
And trampled on, and damaged…
Are Hearts begging you to face What Lives In Them.
Oh, the true power you would find there!
Have you not already lived the Worst?
Have you not already felt the Pain of the very Worst?
I see how you cling to your faulty thoughts as you walk lifelessly to your graves –
Believing that your only power…
Is in choosing…
How
You die.
But that is not your only choice.
I am one of you
And I chose
Life.
And I am calling to you as I watch your Death March.
“You don’t have to go! Oh child, you do not have to go.”
Join me
And we can walk a different road
Together.
ariaphoenix 