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My mental state fluctuates 

as often as my body weight. 

Last week I woke up in a bed of rain

and a bloated stomach 

full of empty pain.

I felt like I was 


even though he was standing right next to me.  

Tomorrow I know I’ll feel the warmth of the city air 

holding my hand again,

and my hips won’t stick out in layers of fat 

the way I thought they did. 

I never really know if I actually physically change 

or if it’s just these mindless circles

dictating my state.

Next week my eyes will be bright again,

I’ll find myself noticing the moss that grows between the cracks of the pavement:

even the most primitive life  

finds its way to the light.

So I’ll draw a map with clumsy hands

and show myself where the light hides 

behind the dark clouding my eyes.

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