the purge

When I look right through you on my way to the bathroom,

please don’t take this personally. My intentions are trapped

on a runaway train-of-thought heading straight toward the toilet

or sink. They will call this moment the purge, and by moment I more

mean a couple of hours spent throwing up nonsense like plastic wrappers

advertising everything you never really needed but always wanted inside

of you only for a moment until you realize the lonely lifetime you’ve

spent, wasted, trying to force your regrets down the drain, hoping they

won’t come back to haunt you, hoping that no one will notice the weight

of the truth you’ve been dragging like it’s your own dead body out of

combat when you are your own PTSD, always indulging yourself with whatever

makes life taste sweeter only while its on its way down…When it comes back

up, never look at yourself in the water, you’ll drown. Never look at yourself

in the mirror because your skeleton will never be showing enough. You will

never be thin enough, good enough, sick enough, able to be loved. You will

never look like the models nor the mannequins or supernovas, never be a

beautiful ghost since your good fortune has made sure you’re just another

little girl littering each runway with your fragile flower petals – dreams

of being someone who’s not too heavy to disappear without them noticing,

not too much to sweep up after your grand revealing displays you in an

casket that doubles as a lunchbox you can exclusively fill with after-photos

of a thinner, whiter, “happier” you, because your body is perfection only

when it rattles, only as an empty cage and you will keep purging to liberate

everything inside you that’s desperate for escape. So when you see me pushing

my way outside, upstairs, to the room with a graveyard, please let me just

close the door. Please don’t ask me if I’m okay…I am on a mission.

The mission is prison-break except here no one ever gets out alive.


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