ともだちと

its miraculous.
that this shell hasn't broken, like egg against frying pan, like skull against concrete.
that this bubble hasn't burst, ones of soap, ones of blood, ones of ocean foam.

what on earth is holding all this in?
what changed?
what broke? what do i need to fix?
i have the emotion, deeper than the emotion- the essence.
the essence of sadness.
but no tears come.

what am i, made of stone?

yet it feels as if my chest has been bared for all to see, and someone has taken a bulb-planter, shoved it in, twisted, pulled.
nothing but a hole where organs,
heart,
lungs,
once were.

i feel it on my sides,
like rakes
tipped in poison,
drenched in broken electricity,
are being pulled across my stretch-marked skin.

my ribs feel like hollow windchimes,
no music,
only vibrations
of stark black/white decisions.

my arms tremble.
my thoughts shake.
my feet keep walking,
i am all mistake.

--------------------------------------
all mistake,
no regret.
i don't want to be your plaything anymore.
but i love you too much.

its not right.
this has no rhyme or reason, i just had to get some thoughts out.

anorexic

surrounded swirling mass
the throng of people
always around,
always confound
ing me with their ways.
their sashays
through life.

so alone,
yet surrounded by people,
surrounded by love.

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this is getting old.