Me, Disappearing

I have lost a part of myself in the last year and a half.

Not feeling, not love, those are always fluctuating, their loss and gain as steady as water lapping the shores of the Cumberland. The same is stress and equally to soothe, equaling the rhythms of desired rest and her will to move. No, no the loss is literal for once.  

To be precise I have lost ten percent of myself.

The internet affords a pictorial trajectory of a body's evolution. The bodies are fellows of the past, some lucky in the present, but past or present most are gaining. Years ago a bone showed, flesh covers it today, flesh and that other word more dimpled and undesired, still filling the first letter with F.

Two-hundred and ten ounces! I say I am trying to dress like a little boy. I start eating flesh and butter; it gets worse. I say I don't know how it happened but I do. I do because I want more gone. More gone than her, as if that would make a difference to anyone other than a slowly disappearing me.

post about disorder.

Thisis a GIF Illustrating a woman ambivalent about nourishing herself from the ample foodsouce in the BKGRND. She make s-s-sure she looks thin enough to eat - boy does that sound wrong - then sits back down, hungry, but with the ability to wear less clothes than before. She feels great about it.

Here is a truth not exuding any beauty because she just loves imagined competition with flowers and others. But hey who can get more honest than this truth. A dead bird rots a dead flower people press in books.

The Second Most Important Thing.

Smoking Notices

posted on mouth's roof, unscorched,
rather, submissive, to lukewarm noodles.

I like room temperature food.
As a smoker I, well I, before I
made nicotine dessert (and pre-breakfast,
coffee, the drive to school [and back],
too), second only to flavor I
wanted clear indications of hot and
cool. Lavasoup and icy fruit. Texture -
tongue welcomes anything, after
becoming acquainted with sperm - no,
just taste and temp for calories one
needn't suck for -

I de-emphasized degrees after afew
years of - rebellion - smokers notice
flavor less, there are reasons one
cannot become a registered connoisseur. In
order to re-tart strawberries and
de-bland butter I
ran out of room on the kitchen counters
and stored my shampoo in the freezer.

I watched food sit when it should be chilled
or heated waited a few extra minutes to
consume a slice of pizza. I can't have a
competition with flavor and you, temperature
are seeded high. By pushing food to rot it
oxidizes or screams to be used gives up on
preserving and succumbs to the tongue to
the mouth that chews it; the only
exception I make is for sperm.