Indulgence, gluttony, wild binges

can set the tone for a desolate day.

The simple act of eating- unholy in my mind.


Carbohydrates to be allocated, portions to be measured, sugars to be circumvented

as if my happy body is the subject of experiment and i am the chemist-

trying desperately to desist creating a monster.


Stoic physicians, my urging mother, my conscience.

Lectures in an ever-rising crescendo between my ears

on permanent repeat; Stuck behind old wax i hesitate to remove.


My lack of will power, my resistance to insulin, my self hatred

make mirroring the American standard of "woman" s l i p from my greedy fingertips-

A tiring struggle to mold myself into a sculpture i can bare.


Defeminizing hormone, falling hair, a body morphing from an hour glass to a pear.

A sickness masking whatever beauty i still retain-

I am left wondering, "what will be left as i age?"


Beneath the complexes- my only true creations-

Lies truth i cannot avoid:

there is a certain emptiness about feeling full-

it is oddly fulfilling to feel empty.



thank you so much! i was nervous to add it!

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