The corpse of AnaMature

There is a body I carry around,
skeletal body hangs from my neck,
wrapped arms around my shoulders,
hands clasped on my throat tight,

Her skin; sucked into the cracks,
of her prominent and bulky bones,
the bones; that whilst I'm walking,
begin to shake wildly, desperately,

Skinny fingers play with my hairs,
pulling each root with indulgence,
Her rough body; my devilish burden,
and yet, I would never purge her,

Abnegation; beautifully painful,
Malnutrition and cruel embargo,
Her body; almost stuck on my skin,
reminder of my uncommon pleasures,

Now she's gripping onto my ribs,
Squeezes, it hurts but feels good,
And yes, I cannot let go of her;
My self-destructive obsessions,

Her mass, contributes to my weight,
It makes me feel heavy; my burden,
Exertion of energy is over-needed,
Depression and weakness overcome,

Through the looking-glass; a fairy
tale, as it shows the unthinkable;
Projected on my body's reflection,
I see Ana's corpse resting on top.

The End

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