an. eating disorders/self harm

summer in california is colder than i expected.
the pounds slip away.
it was easy in my memory, it always is,
but every day is a struggle,
and it feels so good.

my lips turn blue in mid-july,
my heart stutters, skips, starts again
i pull on sweatpants
and go out for a run.

i make a game of my survival.
how far can i push myself?
can i punish my body further
this time around?

i'm lying again
it's not my survival
i'm turning into a game,
but the inevitability
of my surrender