My Unstable Poetry

fuel up

I look at myself 108 pounds at 13
The fat that I once had, flung its self into an unreadable darkness
One that's hazy with edges to touch
Even though you can't see
It's like looking at a mirror, now sometimes no matter how many times you cry and skip desert you wish that's how people see you
My days of not eating lunch at school are no longer a reality,
For my reality is just making it through of a day of girls with skinny legs and hair that reaches their shoulders
My arms are bigger than are shown, the fat shows when pressed down
How much weight do I have to drop
To not be what I am now
I want to be an off white colored skeleton, waking amongst everyone
Looking at how their alive eyes stare into my dead, mixed ones
the doctor asked how I was losing weight
My mom said "She skips desert"
Oh how she was so wrong
"Fuel up," she says at a dinner I don't want to eat and people I don't want to meet
I beg my mom for no fuel, I'd rather go without it for today
That no fuel cycle continues on sometimes, but the cycle of not fueling has to a split
It's split in between the things in my brain
Of what I should do and what I should not
"Fuel up," they said
I said "I shouldn't, at least today."
fucking fuel.

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