To The Marrow
i. Words of Bone
Pathetic,
they whisper, like there's no
more tomorrow.
Fat,
they whisper, like I've eaten
even one thing.
Disgusting,
they whisper, like my skin's
curling in rolls.
Attention-seeking,
they whisper, like I don't hide
behind my clothes.
Too high,
they whisper, like the numbers
haven't descended.
Stop,
they whisper, like I've taken
a bite.
Help me,
I whisper, like a statue in
front of food.
ii. Hollowed
Mirror, mirror, on the wall…
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII(don’t show me for who I am)
I see me, see me,
and my skin stretched tight;
I can count my rib bones with my finger
and when I breathe in,
I look like a skeleton,
decaying and rotting away.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII(lies, lies!
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIthat’s not you
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIit’s a fantasy.)
I see me, see me,
for what’s real:
curved stomach, soft and round,
my bones don’t show,
they’re hidden behind my flesh
and blood and everything fatty
in between.
Disgusting.
And I promise myself, I’ll work harder.
iii. Recorded Lies
I don’t count calories,
because I’m scared of how many
I’ll find I eat.
I record my day with blue ink and lined paper;
What I’ve eaten (17-08-10):
And then lists, short or long
of rotten food and rotten fatty intake.
I lie my way around my friends
and my family and anyone who asks
Aren’t you hungry?
with excuses:
I feel sick.
I’ll eat when I get home.
I’m saving the food for later.
I am a liar, don’t trust me.
I am disgusting, don’t love me.
I am damaged, don’t fix me.
iv. More
tears
and
choking
and
regret
and
bad taste
and
cleaning up
and
toothbrush
and
spit
and
silent screams
and
fears
and
basin
and
pain
and
vomit.
v. Bad Smells
Sometimes, I enjoy
the rotten food smell.
Sometimes, I don’t.
I see food hidden in various
spots around my room,
because last time when I kept it in
the same spotIII(Oh, poor plastic bag,
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIhaving to endure so much
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIfood.)
I got caught.
Open a drawer
and you can still smell it,
if you breathe deep enough.
I feel like gagging, crying,
screaming when
I smell it.
I feel like smiling, clapping,
laughing when
I smell it.
I don’t think
the
IIIIIIIIsIItIIeIInIIcIIh
will ever
leave completely.
Sometimes, I’m happy
for the reminder
IIIIIIIIII - keep working, girl
vi. Hipbones and Lips
I fall to my knees
and I feel weak and
my stomach clenches in pain
IIIIIIIthat I’m used to but
IIIIIIInever gets any better.
I remember a time when I
could eat without limits,
could eat without feeling so ashamed.
IIIIII haven’t eaten in two days.
IIIIII’ve lost two kilograms in that time.
IIIIIIt makes me smile
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIand that sickens me.
I cut open my hips with careful fingers.
They’re so bony
IIIIIIIIIIIIII- it feels good,
as good as chocolate feels between
a fat girl’s lips,
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIbetween my lips but
IIIIIIIIIIIIIII have some control now.
vii. Caught in the Web
For once second,
I let myself think I can be normal again.
For one second,
I let myself think I can be free.
Fantasies and dreams, they are.
I tremble with weakness,
I feel almost like fainting.
Everything is too bright, too loud.
They beg me, plead me
to save myself, to eat just one mouthful.
IIIIIIIIIII can’t.
I was a silly, innocent girl when I
entered into this lifetime sentence.
I’m too far in now.
IIIIIIIIIIThe voices have a hold of me
IIIIIIIIIIand they’re not about to let go.
viii. Listening
Three weeks later, she passed away
in a hospital bed
from malnutrition.
A girl wept for days on end –
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIthe dead girl’s sister
and this girl took on the job
of clearing her sister’s room.
In one drawer,
she found a razor, a journal full of
shortening lists of food, a half-rotten
bag of stinking food, and scales
stolen from the bathroom.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII - Why did no one notice
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIwhen it disappeared?
The sister took these items and
the cycle starts again.
Her last words were:
IIIIIIIIAnorexia claimed our lives.
IIIIIIIIDon’t listen to the voices because if you do,
IIIIIIIIyou won’t be saved.
Pathetic,
they whisper, like there's no
more tomorrow.
Fat,
they whisper, like I've eaten
even one thing.
Disgusting,
they whisper, like my skin's
curling in rolls.
Attention-seeking,
they whisper, like I don't hide
behind my clothes.
Too high,
they whisper, like the numbers
haven't descended.
Stop,
they whisper, like I've taken
a bite.
Help me,
I whisper, like a statue in
front of food.
ii. Hollowed
Mirror, mirror, on the wall…
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII(don’t show me for who I am)
I see me, see me,
and my skin stretched tight;
I can count my rib bones with my finger
and when I breathe in,
I look like a skeleton,
decaying and rotting away.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII(lies, lies!
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIthat’s not you
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIit’s a fantasy.)
I see me, see me,
for what’s real:
curved stomach, soft and round,
my bones don’t show,
they’re hidden behind my flesh
and blood and everything fatty
in between.
Disgusting.
And I promise myself, I’ll work harder.
iii. Recorded Lies
I don’t count calories,
because I’m scared of how many
I’ll find I eat.
I record my day with blue ink and lined paper;
What I’ve eaten (17-08-10):
And then lists, short or long
of rotten food and rotten fatty intake.
I lie my way around my friends
and my family and anyone who asks
Aren’t you hungry?
with excuses:
I feel sick.
I’ll eat when I get home.
I’m saving the food for later.
I am a liar, don’t trust me.
I am disgusting, don’t love me.
I am damaged, don’t fix me.
iv. More
tears
and
choking
and
regret
and
bad taste
and
cleaning up
and
toothbrush
and
spit
and
silent screams
and
fears
and
basin
and
pain
and
vomit.
v. Bad Smells
Sometimes, I enjoy
the rotten food smell.
Sometimes, I don’t.
I see food hidden in various
spots around my room,
because last time when I kept it in
the same spotIII(Oh, poor plastic bag,
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIhaving to endure so much
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIfood.)
I got caught.
Open a drawer
and you can still smell it,
if you breathe deep enough.
I feel like gagging, crying,
screaming when
I smell it.
I feel like smiling, clapping,
laughing when
I smell it.
I don’t think
the
IIIIIIIIsIItIIeIInIIcIIh
will ever
leave completely.
Sometimes, I’m happy
for the reminder
IIIIIIIIII - keep working, girl
vi. Hipbones and Lips
I fall to my knees
and I feel weak and
my stomach clenches in pain
IIIIIIIthat I’m used to but
IIIIIIInever gets any better.
I remember a time when I
could eat without limits,
could eat without feeling so ashamed.
IIIIII haven’t eaten in two days.
IIIIII’ve lost two kilograms in that time.
IIIIIIt makes me smile
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIand that sickens me.
I cut open my hips with careful fingers.
They’re so bony
IIIIIIIIIIIIII- it feels good,
as good as chocolate feels between
a fat girl’s lips,
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIbetween my lips but
IIIIIIIIIIIIIII have some control now.
vii. Caught in the Web
For once second,
I let myself think I can be normal again.
For one second,
I let myself think I can be free.
Fantasies and dreams, they are.
I tremble with weakness,
I feel almost like fainting.
Everything is too bright, too loud.
They beg me, plead me
to save myself, to eat just one mouthful.
IIIIIIIIIII can’t.
I was a silly, innocent girl when I
entered into this lifetime sentence.
I’m too far in now.
IIIIIIIIIIThe voices have a hold of me
IIIIIIIIIIand they’re not about to let go.
viii. Listening
Three weeks later, she passed away
in a hospital bed
from malnutrition.
A girl wept for days on end –
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIthe dead girl’s sister
and this girl took on the job
of clearing her sister’s room.
In one drawer,
she found a razor, a journal full of
shortening lists of food, a half-rotten
bag of stinking food, and scales
stolen from the bathroom.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII - Why did no one notice
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIwhen it disappeared?
The sister took these items and
the cycle starts again.
Her last words were:
IIIIIIIIAnorexia claimed our lives.
IIIIIIIIDon’t listen to the voices because if you do,
IIIIIIIIyou won’t be saved.