this
is a wasteland.
this
has
taught me
don't
feel beautiful if
you're
not working out.
if i
don't emanate my father's
daily
run,
then i'm
busy failing.
this
has
taught me to
buy
too many
full size mirrors
to check
my progress
on
websites where calories
are
disguised as goals,
and the red
means
i've gone too far.
turn back
the clocks, puke it out,
do something.
cause
i've messed up,
and if
they can do it,
why can't
i?
this
is a
disgrace.
i swore i
would never
be one of
those girls so
easily affected
by
"you're gonna eat all that?"
or
"don't forget to walk that off!"
or
"we're running. NOW."
but
somewhere along the way
this
tripped
me up
so bad
i've been staring
at the
bottom of your soles for months.
outside
of the rubber curving
where you
stomp down,
crushing
my appetite,
reminding
me i have 12 hours left to go
until
breakfast.
this
is
what
makes me burst into flame.
this
is
what
makes me feel the most beautiful
when i
haven't eaten.
and this
is
something
i only tried to talk about
in person
once
to a
danish woman
who i
will never see again.
this is
ugly,
and i'm
banging on doors.
singing
shit that will never reach ears,
but i'll
keep on keeping
and
running around that
track.
