Black Plague

March 11, 2011
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anorexia, bulimia
technical words that mean nothing to me…
sick courses through my
bloodless lips,
hot, bitter, sour,
pulsing sweet and disgusting through my throat…
i feel the weakness
seeping out my pores,
surging out my lips,
through my nostrils…
i lean over the toilet,
cold porcelain cutting in my feverish cheek…
will be popular,
will be on the in-crowd,
will not be fat…
and most of all
end up in his arms
where he can see
i can be beautiful…
just like her…

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