somewhatdead

Your feet shuffle over the worn-out, patchy carpet, and I can feel the static dancing on my skin as you lean down to run your finger along the line of my jaw - - kiss me gently on the cheek. And it wasn’t always like this. And it won’t be this way for much longer. I never did quite understand how this panicky back and forth worked its way in-between us. And let’s not pretend like any of this puts even the faintest marker on the map of your bipolar thoughts. Let’s not pretend like the clouds aren’t pushing in a storm today. We both know that this jealousy lurches up my insides like vomit and escapes my lips wit

You never once glanced at the specks of nothing on my plate. The scraping of metal on china. back and forth, ceaseless. Unrelenting. You are blind to the ribs projecting at such funny angles. The cheeks sinking with each vigorous movement of the jaw. Or the warm light dipping into the hollows drawing collarbones. And you are deaf to the retching and gargling escaping my lungs as I lean over into my private little hell. You do not hear the bottomless despair in our conversations, or the recurring whimpers that accompany my blood-shot eyes in the dead of nights. Here's what I intended. Fragments of truth embedded

I long to wrap myself in deception and slip into amnesia get lost in the dazzle of a million pigments screaming let me go, let me go And i look at the scars lacing my limbs suck in the cigarette smoke-tainted air but all i want is to be pure empty new. All i want is to be away from you but those eyes - - they make the veins crawl inside my flesh And i am back in your arms won't you tangle me up in your lies again? And never let me go, never let me go. This bleak emptiness eats itself into my head and I am hurting, hurting. They told me I wouldn't die from a broken heart but I do I lay in my bed at night sheets scrun

Oh, What a thrill! The cold burrowing through skin and bone Eighty pounds even today And I am tapping my foot thinking, Ten more pounds, ten more pounds Staring down at my shrinking thighs Hands feeling frantically for my spine, Fingertips dipping into the hollows of my collarbones. The skeleton in the mirror is beckoning, pulling me in with her dug-out eyes ripping me apart with her haunting smile. She is my sister in her leotards doing triple spins in front of an audience of three hundred. She is my mother at breakfast dissecting a bagel, the girl sitting before me in class, ribs protruding through her satin dress. What a

I’m twirling my great-grandmother’s ring around my finger, grinding in burns; back on the couch where tears have been shed and promises were made that were always broken. Back on the couch; where I spill my heart out to your calm, reassuring eyes, and lock myself back into my little dark womb when I see your annoying, quick hand move across the paper. But I can’t tell you… about the war in my head. I can’t tell you… About all the pills I never wanted to swallow but did anyway. Back on the couch, the only thing I want is to know when it will happen again. Because I don’t want it to just happen, I hate surp

They gave him a single sheet of paper, one pencil. "Say your goodbyes," they said, "You'll be gone by tomorrow."  He lay, curled on his hard thin mattress, facing the cement wall, and ignored them. Ignored the paper, ignored the warning. It was nearly midnight when he finally stood. The moon had risen outside, gleaming through the single window, silhouetting the bars. He sat up and looked at the paper that had remained untouched on the floor. Say your goodbyes, he thought, and picked up the pencil. It was an hour before he finally finished. The paper was covered - frantic scribbling filled every inch: dreams, confessions, hopes -