I am
hunched
over the sink
in the Wendy\'s bathroom,
my hair
tumbling over my eyes,
nearly past my nose.
I can feel my
lungs
aching from the breath
as my insides escape,
sliding down the drain.
I am releasing my
soul
into the ceramic bowl,
letting my tears run with it.
I can feel the prickling of
eyes,
watching,
screaming;
and I can only watch helplessly
as the walls contort into blackness.
I know my insides are not
dark,
they are
clear
like the contacts
you forced into your eyes
every morning.
The lack of food and
absense of water
has turned me into an opaque beauty.
And yet it’s still not enough.
Its never enough.