Do you miss the ache in my bones, between my words? Here it is:
I catch the mirror with a glance and see a body, disobedient, skin, pitted against itself, eyes tongue teeth hair. Further down, blue and purple veins (don't worry you're not meant to see them.
The mesmerizing fall of plump cheeks, rotten lips, too much skin, too many ribbons of blood screaming in my throat, my pulse wild and trembling.
And I want to break the mirror that chains me, that holds me fast; I want to alter the state of reality so it doesn't matter how many pills i swallow at once. So it doesn't matter that I'm a teenage girl, so I'm not crying on the phone at two a.m., so I'm not locked in a bathroom biting on a towel when it doesn't matter if I'm loud because I'm the only one home.
My body is home, my body is a temple, oh yes, I've heard that before but it's a temple in Babylon, the kind of ruin that is excavated from destruction thousands of years after the prime it never saw.
Because God's ways are higher than mine but just let me say that I would have loved to have seen Babylon at it's peak and I would've loved to my flesh in the same light.
My poems may fool you but I am not vain. I am tired, so tired of existing in a prison that has no name, no diagnosis you can Google under the table to understand what I'm talking about, no conversational piece for self-relation.
This life is spent reaching reaching reaching for the key hidden above the door and sighing when it skitters from your fingertips because it took all you had to get this far
And it's still never enough.
