Poison

"I understand" You say, thinking I belive it.
"I'm here for you" You say, knowing you don't mean it.

"Really?" I want to say. No, scream.
"You understand? You're here for me?"
There's a restlessness inside my body, i can feel the anxious twitch of my skin reacting to the poison inside, wishing wanting praying it away, but still it flows through my broken veins.
I can feel it burning, dissolving away my defences and decomposing my soul.
I was happy. I was free. I had forgoten what it was like to wake up numb to both the sun and the darkness. To have the voices of stick-limbed godesses whispering bittersweet commands in my ear and stitching torn up images of beautiful skeletons behind my eyelids.
"Eat/Puke/Eat/Puke/Eat/Puke/Die" They tell me.
"Cut/Cry/Cut/Cry/Cut/Cry/Die" They say.
Then slowly, painfully, ripping open the just healed wound buried deep within my brain and stuffing it with barbed wire and razor blades, they suffocate me with old memories and new realities.
The crying, the heaving, the starving, the tearing open my skin with the shattered glass that once was my self esteem.
The insomia that crawls its way through me during the dark painting my eyes dark and shadowed.
Scratches on my knuckles, barely visible until they are reunited with my rotting-from-the-inside-out teeth. My oesophagus, just healed, was stripped of its comfort as acid forced its way up my throat once more. The same burn is that which i can feel throughout my body. The burn that resurfaces every time crimson drips down my wrist, already decorated with faded white metaphors.

"Yeah, thanks" I say, sticking to the script.
"Not a problem," You say, masking emotional indifference with a smile.
"Sure" I say, lying with my own.