Mine courtship with deadly obsession(s)

still indelibly scored within
windmills of my mind

this July 22^nd, 2020.

Imagine yours truly post pubescence
(no matter ye never met me)

all that life in front of me

argh... precious time squandered

abustle with rattle and hum of compulsions

slavishly buzzfeeding pet peeves.

Anorexia nervosa ranked
as thee moost detrimental

upon cusp of prepubescence

I metaphorically teetered

and tottered on the brink

of deep Russian Siberian exile.

While awaiting piano lesson
(circa early 1970's)
collapsed unto the floor

Barbara McCall, née Youngblood

helplessly watched her student (me)
he flailed, garbled, hobbled...
succumbed into heart of darkness

softly wailing "I cannot live anymore"

or some such grievous plaintive utterance.

Long befuddled and dazed journey into night

began to hound my doggone noggin

while in the throes of puberty
voices dictated me to forego
first one meal, two, then all hunger pangs

eventually stymied, squelched, and silenced.

Dumbfounded family members
(father, mother, and deux sisters)

baffled, and thought
precious progeny and brother respectively

possibly involved with drugs
(an easier fix in retrospect),
versus shattered psyche (mine)
analogous to Humpty Dumpty mishap
only far more serious.

Even curious peers queried me
during lunchtime understandably asking,

whether non intake of food
nsync and/or linkedin
with particular religion,
which inquisitiveness answered
with shrug of shoulders,

cuz reason without rhyme
i.e. existential crisis

impossible mission to communicate
at that moment, whereby
all ears and eyes turned toward me

I wanted to crawl into
a black hole and disappear.

I felt absolutely zero joie de vivre

(no surprise stating the obvious)

essentially loathed being alive

when fellow students grilled me
(unspoken tongue in cheek retort
cheeses crust inaudibly uttered).

A short while prior

before anorexia nervosa got free rein
to ride amuck

analogous to red
(angry) bulls running roughshod

think utmost helter skelter

my mother acquired degree
as licensed practical nurse
courtesy local vocational trade school.

She crafted nutritious concoctions
yet interestingly enough

did not watch me like a hawk
rather left her sole skinny son
with task to consume sizable quantity

without dereliction to pour

said healthy drink down toilet.

I quickly established a ritual sipping elixir
whereby yours truly filled
little plastic measuring cup

then painstakingly nursed

said tumbler size capful

down to the last drop,

which inexorably time consuming process

found hardly any spare hours
for any other (necessary

or otherwise) function.

Eventually solid food intake

integrated with pureed secret ingredients,

yet even the painful prospect receiving

iron inoculations into bony buttucks
(punitive punishment gladly accepted)

without curbing appetite for self destruction,

which as an aside mother dearest

never disclosed constituent parts
comprising blended conglomerate

when, some few decades later,

she went to her grave.