THE BEAUTY MONSTER

It’s in my head again, calling me down into pain
while it lifts me up to the illusion of perfection
bones protruding against easily bruised skin
nerve endings in my mind screaming in protest
as I fight with every ounce of resolve I have
I can’t… I won’t give in, though I’m doubled over in agony
stomach acid churning, abusing me with one word
EAT!

While my body is eating itself from the inside out
light headed, vision swimming, I’m so high
in excruciating bliss, fingers smiling as they
trace over an illusion of bony beauty that I know
one day is going to kill me.
There is food in my hands, heaven on my tongue
I don’t know how it got there, panic racing through
raging through, as I stumble into the bathroom
Throw it up! Throw it up! Throw it up!
Sick relief tinged with guilt as I purge myself
of impurity and emotions that are better left buried
food, a beautiful indulgence that is like a sin
to my starving body that’s screaming for it
telling me, begging me, to eat
and I can’t… I won’t, when I want to be beautiful
I want to be beautiful, like a supermodel
and I’m not… I’m not beautiful.

The pain is agony and ecstasy
while I’m having a panic attack
as stomach acid fills my chest cavity
and it feels like I’m dying  
all the lies, every single lie, telling me
I can have it all, if I stave myself to perfection
while all it ever does is hurt
interspersed with dizzy highs and overwhelming elation
that only the scales and dropping of inches can bring
though it never lasts… one more kilo and I’m be happy
just one more… and it’s never enough
for this mind fucking addiction
that equates beauty with skeletal remains.

© Indie Adams 2012