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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() [content warning: eating disorders, self harm] count your ribs, fingering the clinging meat rack by rack, selecting a prime cut for picnic lunch, still raw, bouncing with fleshy aliveness of a pig. dry
in the ebony heat until you shrivel, plum seeping tart juices– purple bloodstains on the kitchen floor, until the bones are smooth as a science-class skeleton bleached to untarnished porcelain– water is the first taste of remorse. sink into the rhythm of throbbing, dull knife sawing through ruby-red flesh– there’s a visceral glory in moving one muscle to make another tremble, sinewy fibers tortured into marbled pasture-raised grease. cook until every muscle withers, chalky sinew gurgling misty-eyed refractions before burning to bitter coals. cut into your unrendered porcelain, scaly creases cracking like a china bowl, pick up the shards that your blue-green veins might bloom to painted cobalt flowers, knives on the checkered floor– red and white, bloodstains and lard stained bowl, baby-backs still jiggling. eat rack by rack, stretching the stomach until ribs burst to slimy entrails, emaciated arm cranking the ropes splintering like tendons snapping like rubber bands with every bite, tears moist against ant-infested wood, pleas fat with senseless simile, your law cares nothing for mercy. clean up the bone-white shards and shrug a sweater over that flowery dress– your guests will be waiting and it’s a nice hot day– so pull out that textbook smile and feast under a sun of melted butter. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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