Sixty Stories Less Of Me
I am getting hungry again. When will the sharp pains end?
I thought this was something called control.
I am like those drawings I like-the ones with thin sketchy lines.
When you squint your eyes they disappear.
Everyday you'll see less of me.
My brother said my ass is fat.
How am I supposed to feel about that?
There is a closet to hide in down the hall.
Where I'll be safe for a while. I'll sing quietly.
"Oh, why does my body bother me?"
Everyday you'll see less of me.
A feminist theory? A privileged girl disease?
I could drown in clothes with skin too tight to breath.
If I was pencil thin would I disappear
If you squinted your eyes at me?
I am very salty these days-a lot of sweat,
A lot of tears and even more running away.
I will stay in this closet for now.
Sit safely down the hall.
Safely quiet. Safely small.
Until everyday you won't see me.
