4.19.2017

This is not ego-driven

 

My waistline does not say vanity

It says you can experience the sweetness as long as it is the leftovers

Don’t indulge, but hold on to the goodness so that it is there

When you think you deserve it

Set constraints for your hunger cues – as if hunger is a battle, or a game to be won

 

And when you feel unsure

When your body is a shapeshifting mirage, projection of anxiety and dysphoria

Find your measuring tape

But don’t write anything down

Research scales, but do not buy them

 

You are recovered

 

Even when shrinking feels more like preservation than self-sacrifice

Even when you’re not sure of the difference

4.14.17

I don’t feel lovesick

I just feel sick

Nausea, pins and needles on the skin, dizziness

Symptoms of uncertainty

 

I touch you and then retreat into my thoughts

Body tucking into its self, folding, praying for disappearance

Now, when I don’t long for your touch, or the sensation of your hands around my neck

I feel suffocated by you

 

 

I felt myself letting you down every moment we were together

And could not stop

No one likes someone encumbered by negativity

Self-hating egotist

 

I have been trying to escape the grip of self-absorption

But the way you’ve been looking at me has me spiraling

Insanity coiling around me

 

Things feel bad

Like a good dream gone wrong

Not quite nightmare, not quite escape

 

4.3.17

Insecurity

Of stature, positioning

Word choice and identity

 

There is no cosmetic modification, superficial alteration

Capable of providing relief

No respite from dysphoria

 

But embellish me with glittering distractions from inner turmoil

Paint me, contour my surfaces

Hide me below layers of adornment

 

I am trying to stay hidden

Underneath eyelash

Underneath straightened, curled, and brushed

Primed, powdered, set

Disguised

 

But beneath, I shift

And even when my movement is not seen, it is felt

Seismic energy creating quivering pretense

3.9.2017

Blues

Watercolor on the skin

 

I will not look you in the eye while I lie about the origin of these bruises

Or at all today

 

I see you growing tired

These months carving caverns beneath your eyes

You are not lacking in compassion

Only endurance

 

I am tired, too

I cannot keep my eyes open

I want to go to sleep while I’m still happy

2.25.2017

Tears and snowflakes falling at similar intervals

As I consider how you want to kill yourself in order to fertilize the breeding ground of your reincarnation

I am so in love with this version of you

I worry my heart will die when they do

 

I am mourning a loss that has not yet occurred

And wondering if there is a quota for how much pain can be accommodated within one relationship

I’m finding myself holding in my hurt

So that you may suffer more comfortably

 

It feels like familiar sickness

Contorting myself into tolerable doses

Eventually non-existence

While watching you bind and alter to attain your truest form

2.1.2017

This is holiness

Good dreams, euphoria

Downy and sweet

Holistic pleasure

 

We are making homes in one another’s souls

Your door has a window, receiving second hand sunlight from the heavens

 

There is no midnight or noon, or time at all

There is only a fullness

Cores overflowing with blossoming flowers, glittering light emanating from security

 

This is everything

1.22.2017

Toxic

Swirling, circling, swelling, filling the room

Filling you

And poisoning us both

 

No matter what he told you, it is not pure

Because there is residue, and imperfection cannot dissipate into the air

It builds up

Creating borders and boundaries, forming walls around you before stealing the ones you had

 

Is there anything lonelier than self-imposed isolation?

Is the high keeping you company?

 

Your stitching is coming undone