The Last Supper MAG

August 17, 2012
By Anonymous


The pure growth of bracken blond cracked the magenta-dyed horizon
Of her flat-ironed locks, and we doused ourselves in 100 SPF as if baptizing
Though my skin was not translucent like hers;
I thought if something as intangible as beauty can kill
Us, why not light?

We dozed among fresh hacked grass 'cause we believed the world
Was our manger, and she treaded next to me in boots with buttery plastic
Soles that could've walked on water and shed no ripples;
She divided her lunch, breaking bread, not calling
It her body though not eating was costing her one;
And she sipped Monster Energy, wishing to convert it to wine or pills, sleep,
And I realized from our hair to our sunscreen medicine food, to our wants,
We are embezzled and encrusted with chemicals
Chemicals, chemicals that'll preserve us better when we die
If we could ever arise; If she could heave a boulder from her tomb three days after,
Like I've heard it's been done, and if she'd even want to.

I remember us back at her place, that time she vined designs of Sharpie
On our limbs and said “if I'll die of skin disease,
It'll be by my own devices;” or if we die at all

The author's comments:
This was about a friend. I wanted to show how unnatural anorexia and recurring suicidal thoughts are, and yet how severe.

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