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The Art of AnorexiaA friend once told me cows have udders Which is how he knew, for certain, That I was not a cow But I disagreed.The Art of Anorexia
I cheerio'd and cheerio'd until hips and waist lines showed through the thickest of sweaters and sweat pants
I was so proud
Like a reverse mother, I let my child drain me of weight And birthed a monster in its place Miles upon miles of track circles Counting 12, 11, 10, 9 more laps to go Counting 500, 600, 700 calories today 200 too many Four more laps for mama
I have learned to live with migraines The thrum of success pou
by ~tristesse-eternelle
VindicationI am the party cocktail With thick salt around the rim Waiting to sear and burnVindication
Your flesh
To test your strength and resolve To see if you can love me Happy, angry, and all the rest
I am the spiked punch That makes you dizzy That makes you spineless
Vomitrocious
I am pretty lights that tantalize And distract you from your woe And your duty I am dirty money that needs to be Smoothed over
Temptress, seductress &nbs
by ~tristesse-eternelle
Dear Old House I Grew Up In It was never a normal door or a normal house. I'd walk up and be met with two doors and then in and be met with two sets of stairs: one leading up, the other down. I could descend into my childhood cellar or rise above it on any given 1990s summer day. My childhood had dead lamp shades and my cousin's cut out play-boy ladies on the wall. Their tans amazed me; how did they get white triangles on their breasts? It eluded me at the time, at a time where innocence was cherished and innocence just happened to be my pseudonym. The bare-naked-ladies from Playboy 1996 were plastered over traditional sevDear Old House I Grew Up In
by ~tristesse-eternelle
Persephone and the PomegranateThe flush of youth plays about her facePersephone and the Pomegranate
She is nearly bursting with life
Filled with the juice of existence and
Percolating, waiting at the tip-toes of her limbs She is scarlet and divine She is sweet and swelling With pride A terrible sin, in a terrible place And she is mine and she and she as well Seed one through six A mistake, an indulgence, a need But how the devil's clock does tick For my hungry greed
by ~tristesse-eternelle
Favourites
For YouIt is not a regretful time I write in, though it is full of half empty coffee cups and dumpsters that smell like “I forgot again. I forgot again.” Being lost in a crowd is nothing more than not missing you when I sleep and scratching away my first layer of skin when I’m awake and never knowing which way I should take when the traffic lights turn and turn and turn, and I’m at a stand still because there’s something that something is supposed to be and I understand that one day fate will have eaten me fully and while it gnaws on my long brown hair I thinkFor You
by ~Miseria-Cantare
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Manassas, Va
- Personal Quote: If you cry about a nickle, you'll die about a dime
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In the room the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo
~Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
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Tagliatelle is a type of noodle and grande means "big" in Italian. If you don't do what I say, I get to hit you with the tagliatelle grande, which I've heard is an unpleasant and somewhat sticky experience.
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In the room the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo
~Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
Wanna be friends?
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Tagliatelle is a type of noodle and grande means "big" in Italian. If you don't do what I say, I get to hit you with the tagliatelle grande, which I've heard is an unpleasant and somewhat sticky experience.
--
In the room the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo
~Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
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Closed Account
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In the room the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo
~Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
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