Comma
Tongue too big for my mouth
I sit on the bed, listless
Staring into nothing
Unmoving
Except for when I cough
Loud things that turn me into a comma
And make me cry out
It's Not an Eating Disorder
I don’t eat much.
I never have.
Especially when I’m so anxious
My stomach turns at the mere scent of food.
“It’s not an eating disorder,”
I try to explain.
People stress eat.
They eat ‘til they’re bursting.
‘Til they’ve doubled in size.
That’s disordered eating
Not an eating disorder.
It’s just that I’m the opposite.
My appetite leaves me,
Leaves me hollow like a tomb.
I know I should eat
But my stomach rebels.
It’s hard to eat
When even a delicacy is tasteless.
Sometimes I throw it all up
Even if I choke it down.
“It’s not an eating disorder.”
Because it’s not.
It’s “disordered eating caused by
severe anxiety.”
But people don’t believe me
When I’ve lost ten pounds in two weeks
And my collar bones jut out like mountains.
My Room
I want to saw my skull open
And pull out my brain
Rearrange the nerve signals and blood vessels
So they won't scream when the weather changes
I'll put it back
Exposed and vulnerable
Covered in my own blood
And maybe
I won't
Have to hide
In my room
Here is a Grounding Technique
Here is a grounding technique
​
5 things I can see:
The lights blinding
The computer screen burning
The people like mannequins
The colors exploding
The hands trembling
​
4 things I can feel:
The tag on my shirt stabbing
The shoes on my feet crushing
The earrings on my neck scraping
The air on my arms scratching
i am at the store
all the sensations too much
my mind escapes the chaos
while my body is violently trapped
​
3 things I can hear:
The loudquiet drone of music on the speakers
The murmurshouts of people
The air conditioning screaming
​
2 things I can smell:
The disinfectant, cutting and nauseating
The stale air suffocating
​
1 thing I can taste:
Bile, sour sharp