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VI.

Disorder; I don't believe in the word.

They run statistics and codes to bury,
to differentiatebetween the symptoms of medical conundrums
and psychological sobriety let undone,
sleeping on telephone-voice words
practiced to unwavering,distilled absolution –What I see's got nothing to do,nothing to do with any of you.I scavenged the ribs lining my body,
faltering under the weight of the discord
I engaged, and wondered if it was so terrible to stop.
Mother served me a meal to eat,
to devour, and I chose not to.I recall; it was 2004.V.

I possessed little to be proud of, nothing to be proud for
as I gave into the idea that there was nobody
like me, who understood this insidious need to
end the misery, the discord
wearing at me like words telling me to eat–
It's an ugly word, mother;don't tell me to stop.IV.
Call me envy, I reasoned,
In the twists and the turns
Of my hospital bed.

Linda, she introduced,
Losing time, shaking hope,
Deciduous in all that she said.

Her wrists bled cords
She could not grip, could not shed;
Her body but a frame.I watched Linda die, but in my mind she never stopped.
They said it was nothing worth dying for,
and that I had to find the strength to eat.
As if such strength came from the body
alone, and they brought on the feeding cords –
I tasted all she fought; all they constrained us to.

III.

He wore hostility like a non-existent grin
Tight-lipped conformity behind
Thin brows, squared frames
Matter-of-fact perception laced on
The way he slanted narrow eyes

White coat, prescription pen
Left me in self-defense

I waited and waited for him to say I looked thinner.I don't remember if he ever did.There's something weary about looking to
those who don't support you for help;their lips saying nothing, their eyes saying stop.I shredded the binds from my hands, the cords
cluttering to the floor, and I was free for
an instant. Consulting my mirror, where I was somebody,
I assisted fingers to the back of my throat.I'd had too much to eat.II.

"You need to eat,"
mother said, and I wondered who she was speaking to –
Not me, I reasoned, and answered to nobody.
"You'll starve like that girl Linda if you don't stop,"
was all I barely heard, for
I had nothing I didn't need;her presence but a distant

                                                   silent, spinning record.I.

I felt light; no creaking of machines, no cords,
no-one pressuring me to consume, to diligently eat –
And all was bliss, for
just another passing moment in time to
those who waited, to those who never stopped.
And I held the world in my hand right then, if not to anybody,then to myself. I trampled discord the way
the body crumbles to the choices it makes for itself.
I'm sorry, mother –

                                      I chose never to eat, never to stop.