Losing

I am addicted to losing.
The addiction of a slimming figure
a knot of nerves
where a stomach once was.

It is so beautiful to lose -
to know on those sleepless nights that I have
mastered something.
Through these endless,
monotonous days,
I am getting something accomplished.

When nothing in my life is reliable, dependable
constant or concrete
I will control this –
starve it and shrink it and show it off
As thin as a run way model
no shame in a double zero
because zero is nothing and that is all
that I want to be.
The feel of bones under skin is just a rush of progress
Their concerns and fears sound like amazement and awe
iheir cries are like cheers
because less is more and
none is better.
This feeling of self control – no one can take it from me
It is my pride –
a reminder of what I am capable of.

So
even if she is prettier
if she’s smarter
is she’s funnier
if he leaves me for her because he says he thinks he’s losing his mind watching me do what I do so
well –
at least I’m still skinnier than her.

All these concerns cease to be problems
These challenges – they now become achievements.
The scales and its tiny numbers
are more rewarding
than any praise
could ever be.
Losing is just an art.
I do it exceptionally well.

So
even if I lose
my
place
lose my balance because I’m
losing track of the days since I’ve eaten.
losing my mind haha
(but who’s to says by now
that’s really such a bad thing?)

Now that my soul is held in only by bones
Now that I have lost everything except for the ability to lose
even more
So call me the Biggest Loser -
because unlike my clothes, it fits me so well.

But still
I assure you
so don’t you worry:
I am in control.
I am the master of my own body.
I am in the driver’s seat.
I am perfectly aware and
beautifully addicted
to what I am doing.
So you all can just rest easy knowing that
I’m losing it

all