An Apple a Day
‘Silence will not heal your scars, but give them tiny chariots to ride upon.’ - Ed Wren, Playwright - The Ordinaries in... an Awkward Silence - unpublished.
Happiness and heart-felt smiles
hauntless nights and handfuls of air.
Hearts and organs in glass bodies -
she’s always dreamed of getting there.
Controlled diets slowly shaping,
slowly moulding hour-glass curves.
Gentle routines and mindless wanders
start to chisel away from her.
Hours and days
Days and weeks
‘The success is showing,’ she thinks,
‘just a few more tweaks.’
Stricter chewing, quicker carving
swifter loosing her slimming size.
Brisk routines and higher thought process
in between more labored strides.
Smiles and radiance
social acceptance and inner-peace.
Her skin is lighter, stomach’s shrinking -
eating through her gritted teeth.
Harsher counting, faster moving
calories multiplying in her head.
A mental challenge, a taunting voice:
‘how much of this corpse can you shed?’
Concave belly and washboard ribs
Sunken eyes and patchy skin
Translucent casing generously coating
oversized veins and boney limbs.
Drying strands of stringy wire
split themselves and fall away.
The woman inside - unable to develop -
loses herself. Shrinks. Decays.
Jutting hips and wilting muscles
fading soul and tortured mind.
Paving stones ache for her bouncing steps.
Mirrors miss her. Have they gone blind?
But on cold tiles, demonic scales
sneer at her efforts and laugh her weight.
Her protruding veins throb with anger -
there must be something else she can lose... wait.
Dismantled razor and unflattering moonlight,
violent uncertainty and uncensored fate.
She hovers the edge over needless pounds
and with a light breath, she grates.
Her life bursts and spills to her feet,
runs down her skeleton, fleeing.
She looks into her hollow, black eyes -
laughs uncontrollably and what she’s seeing.
Peaceful resistance and zen in her pulse,
achieved wishes and temporary dreams.
Her head floats as she struggles to stand,
she feels lighter in her mind at least.
She falls to the floor, feathering down,
the emptiness inside growls angrily.
She feels hollow and weak but still, she wonders,
‘what could that growling be?’
Shivering blood and drowning dreams
bubbling rage and frightening voices.
‘The flood dripping down your icicle skin
is not enough.’ She gives in to the forces.
Night after night she drains the rivers -
surges of warmth that keep her alive.
The battle of ice against crimson is fierce,
she wants to lose, God knows she tries.
Withering skin and hollowing bones
indestructible will and impressionable soul.
She’s ready to plead before her maker
but the rotting emptiness remains a whole.
‘You can never desert me,’ growls the voice,
snarling, indignant, from somewhere within.
The life of the anger moves in her chest
weighing her down with her sin.
A soul in a soul, a life in a life.
Red-eyed intruders and feeble hosts.
She feels unknown emotions writhe in her body,
sharing it with anorexic ghosts.
Knuckles swell, vertebrates tense,
jaw dislocates - with venom it swells.
She hides behind the cold black eyes
defenseless in her withering shell.
Terror engulfs her mind as she thinks
she can’t free herself from this.
She pleads with her saviour, the enemy clenches
and with a furious breath, a hiss.
Curses and prayers she whispers
but it can hear her words within.
It slithers into her thought process
and poisons her pleas. It stings.
Sinking tears down skeletal skin,
dying fights and wills growing stale.
the Within swells, feeds on her fear,
she’s heavy with fiends - she’s frail.
Her body slithers over the cold tiled floor,
fingers slinking, body not her own.
Elasticated joints pleat themselves
as contortion folds her, snaps her bones.
Floating ribs and double-bent elbows
escaping shrieks and rolled-back eyes.
It ages and bruises her rose-like skin
twisting her, fracturing her insides.
It splinters and cracks everything it can
dragging her toward her grave.
It did not flinch when she muttered
her last words, ‘Lord, please save-’
---
Hollowness and heart-felt screams
haunting nights and claspfuls of hair.
Hearts and organs in glass bodies -
she always dreamed of getting there.
