this

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.