Feast On Famine
A Struggle With An Eating Disorder
I bless the ache,
Make a ritual of restraint.
Tell myself that emptiness
Is a kind of power.
I pray with locked jaws,
Bite back the want
Until it dissolves
On my tongue.
I make bargains
With mirrors-
Half-truths
And soft lies.
If I shrink enough
Maybe I'll vanish
Into something beautiful.
I skip meals
Like skipping stones-
Waiting to sink,
But floating
Just long enough
To try again.
I crave silence.
Control.
Clean hands.
An exit
From the noise.
The emptiness
Feels so good to me.
It's the only thing
That makes sense anymore.
The heaviness
Feels like home to me.
It's a hollow wound
I cauterize.
About the Creator
The Omnichromiter
I write stories like spells—soft at the edges, sharp underneath. My poems are curses in lace, lullabies that bite back. I don’t believe in happily ever after. I believe in survival, transformation; in burning and blooming at the same time.
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How, Too
Many people wonder how, too. You are not alone, and I am an expert. I will teach you how, too! First, you need to remit a small application fee and fill out an application describing the nature of your financial situation and how often payments will be made, as this will have great bearing on how well I teach you how, too.
By Harper Lewis7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
The way you captured the push and pull between control and destruction is both gut-wrenching and unforgettable.
You are most beautiful, draped in the words of your soul, outfitted in truth and fearlessness. Thank you for sharing something so vulnerable. 🫶🏻🥹❤️🩹