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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