Hollow Boy

hollow boy,
you're such a lucky boy,

standing there with your bowl-shaped stomach,
pitying the full and envying the hungry.
hoping your ribs don’t crack;
praying the bones in your feet don't break as they hit the pavement.

wishful thinking, disoriented wishes.
emaciation is a dream unfulfilled.
but your bones gaunt and haggard, ripping through the skin.
you hate the way mirrors show something hideous back to you.

step on the scale and pray for mercy.
close your eyes and pretend the numbers are smaller.
numerals fading quicker and quicker,
lessening in rhythm with the long hand on the clock.

concave boy,
you're such a lucky boy.