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anemic mornings enchain me to the bed
they dry my lips and I nibble on them, habitually

I can't eat yet, but in special moments
I can ravage the whole fridge

my mother lied to me
that youth is a gladness
I am only a poor construction of human anxiety

dear God, pull me out of this hell

I imprecate when the night stats
window separates me from the beast

you're not there, but I feel your presence
you were my parasite, I am bursting

I have been trying to get up for a few days
to approach the mirror
when I reach for my reflection
a whisper emanates
from behind the glass
''you are nothing, you are nothing''
later I shatter my mirror
I burst again
I hide under the quilt
bed is my house

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