a bulimic cunt on the floor

 

drink of the devil

lemon juice and cayenne pepper

poured into a shot glass

take it in one swallow

and feel it singe your throat

 

every morning

I make the same iced black coffee

and drink it in tiny little sips

 

gag down the drink

or gag up the food

it’s my choice

 

I know it’s not pleasant

but I’m addicted to being called pretty

to being called perfect

I’ll do anything to make you love me

 

I can go one more day

if it means another stranger will stop

to call me lovely

 

insults and compliments

they’re all the same

“gorgeous” means it is worth it

“sick” means it is working

 

my ego sounds massive

but my self esteem is low

I deserve to feel beautiful

because hell knows I work for it

 

I like the toxic poison I ingest

the white powder in my water

I want to be smaller

to take up less space

in others’ lives

 

I hate the way I speak

I have self awareness

and I know how I sound

I’m sending us back thirty years

but I want to be worse

I want to say more

I want to romanticize illness

so I will

 

-

 

I have perfect control

over everything around me

white sterile bones

as light as a feather

measuring tape becomes ribbon

to tie little bows in my hair

I’m only a girl

water as cold as snow or ice

grows angel wings on my back

and a plastic scale

to measure my success

 

and no matter how difficult

my university classes become,

or how loud my home gets,

or how much she yells and screams,

or how many times I say no and am ignored,

or how often I fail when I try my best,

or how many assignments I do poorly on,

or how bad my chronic illness gets,

or how hard I’m pushed to the ground and assaulted,

or how many tears I cry,

this I have control over

 

this I have control over

 

this I have control over

 

THIS I HAVE CONTROL OVER.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

I lost control

 

I am a fucking hurricane

sweeping through this home

I devoured it all

with no hesitation

everything is gone

I went to the grocery store

two miles away

and spent every cent I had

on momentary bliss

then life shattering destruction

I gorged until I puked on the floor

then I did it again

then again

then again

every time my body convulsed on the ground

it only made room for more to be shoved inside

fistfuls upon fistfuls

consuming the very air in the room

sprawled and gasping

fish out of water

repulsive

I go again and again

beat me into a pulp or bury me

it would hurt less than this

I cry into my cake

I wish I could crawl inside

and eat myself to death

or open my bag of chips

to find a gun

and shoot this pig on the tile floor

right through the temple

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

but tomorrow

 

tomorrow I’ll have control again