i fall asleep by counting ribs not sheep and i wake up to a galaxy on my ceiling and my worn out feet step on & off (and back on & off) the scale and then it's time to drown my organs in a sea of water and green tea and i wonder how many calories i burn just by breathing and i cut my food into tiny bites and i scribble numbers into tattered notebooks and sometimes i need to feel full just to know i'm still a person so i find myself on another grimy bathroom floor, teeth pressing into my knuckles and i run until my bruised knees buckle and i get high on feeling like michaelangelo when i carve bones out of the softness and i scrape the salt off of pretzels and i dig my fingers into my abdomen to try to push my hunger away and i stare into the mirror & am confronted by my own decay and i don't care because i can see my collarbones and i watch the world go from day to night just by standing up and i get full on oxygen and i fall asleep by counting ribs not sheep
