|“Who is that? She runs her hands down the curvy figure. Where are your bones, why aren’t they prominent?
The echo of the strained purging body, the shiver of the depleted nutrients, the body mimics a wilting flower.
Who is that? This body is large, human like. Where did my bones go? My mind is cognizant of this shape.
Laying there staring up at the ceiling, one more time, she can do this. Feeling the pressure then looking down. This is cryptic.
Who is that? This is not worth it. Grasping the sides of the cold glass, the red tinge is dominant.
Time and time again. The same urge, the same relief. The high is surrealistic.
Who is that? The skeleton figure looks back. Tear stained black eyes. This is confident?”