self-care

with each rotation of a padded hula hoop
the bumps digs into your stomach

the pain almost mimics
what the forging of abs might feel like

after a while,
the belly is numb,
and there might actually be some internal bruising

for the next few days
like a constant reminder,
your tummy screams agony
and you smile quietly-

a secret that should bring results.
and these results will make you happy.

if i’ve learned anything from hurting yourself,
it’s that the addictiveness of hiding shit like this
will eventually turn into madness
that has you unable to hug you tiny baby cousin
because you’re covered in self-inflicted scars.

my entire body is a rejected peeled plum skin
the thigh of a dedicated roller-derby lass
a spit out aubergine from a repulsed mouth
the colour of your favourite jumper of mine

my chest is a beat up baseball that has unraveled
all over the floor
all in pieces
smashed m&ms and broken mirrors
crashed cars and mangled knuckle bones
irreparable and a FUCKING mess

i love it
i love it
i love it

because at least it’s better
than feeling a pain
caused by someone else.

 

 

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