There’s blood smeared on this side of hell

dripping down you to a well

where I no longer puke

or dream of a fluke

where water is all I consume


You fantasize these bones like I’m naked

Your dreams of my death and my hatred

are ice in my lemonade

the steam from my fresh baked

body that you no longer starve

​
My palms press to you like an embrace

Think what you will, but do brace

for impact; I’m bleeding,

eating, scraping, freeing
​
from you, my last wall, go to hell

Writer's Statement: ​I wrote this while reflecting on the struggles of anorexia. The final wall symbolizes the last barrier to freedom from the disorder that restrains those suffering from life, confidence, and hope.