Tag: capturingcampus

Capturing Campus: Washing Ritual

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Content warning: Obsessive compulsive behavior, gore

Washing Ritual

Close the door; lock it for privacy; check again, for privacy; remember to breathe; turn the faucet; let the water pour pour pour into the basin; watch the steam build up; pump the soap; press down one, two, three; like a cloud; scrub the palms and the wrists; the palms again; get the fingers: three, four, five; the frog webs or minor syndactyly—it must be one of the two: three, four, five; dig in the groves and under the fingernails that don’t have dirt under them but maybe they do, they always could: one, two, three, four, five; move to the left hand; one, two, three, four, five; one, two, three, four, five; one, two, three, four—the water should be scalding, just enough to blister, but not enough to regret; scrub hard, scrub very hard; scrape at the holes and the raw patches; rub away the fine lines, the creases, the folds in the flesh; keep going; the blisters will go away in an hour or two—maybe three; another pump: one, two, three; again—the right hand; the left hand; keep going; don’t stop; it burns because it’s working

Capturing Campus: Feeding Ritual

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Content warning: Eating disorders, binge eating, rituals

Feeding Ritual

Keep the food in the fridge and out of your mouth; disregard the growling; don’t consider the taste; come up with guidelines to follow to a T; that means no chips, no bagels, no pasta, no pretzels, no fried foods, no Diet Coke, no fatty meats, no butter on toast, no ice cream, no cone for the ice cream, no school lunches, no holiday dinners, no Krispy Kreme donuts (that one is important); bread is a trap; chocolate is a lie; don’t drink your calories; eat exactly half your meal; turn down the offer; it’s Halloween: too bad; it’s Christmas: He starved or bled to death (one of the two); it’s best not to consider the feeling of fullness; run to feel better; run until your legs burn; run until long after your legs burn; move at a crawl because your legs burn; don’t lose control; people are good at spotting those things; but search the cupboards and fridge anyway; grab something, anything, everything; don’t stop for air; keep shoveling, and it’s all well and fine; eat until the world has turned upside down; feel embarrassed; feel hateful; feel envious of prior bodies, of other bodies; be out of control; be angry; be ugly and spiteful at the world which births and suffocates; be proud of the mess; deny it all; keep killing yourself; don’t stop.

Capturing Campus: Post-gestation

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new year, old her

scared of nothing

worth the fear

who knew nothing

of the world

watched with clean eyes

lucky

she knew she was 

but didn’t know 

the possibilities that mold and fur

on the tongue 

the promises of freedom

that smoldered 

like the end of a cigarette 

snuffed out 

walking by

faceless people dying on faceless ground

turning heads away from death

kicking change from Big Gulp cups

because there aren’t any Coinstars where we’re going

where we’re going 

some argue is already written

but the news is always new

always angry 

spitting words wedged between molars 

spoken without pause 

not meant to be held by a head

how can shoulders bear

the weight?

waiting for the refresh to stop 

circling the drain

staring at the screen 

calling it a friend

because who has friends these days?

red veins where the whites were

it’s time to go to sleep; dreaming in blue

forget today and tomorrow

the next day

too—late for living 

is this what the world always was?

we are told things were better

but were they ever

what we remember?

the skin she was born with

that was supple and growing

is no longer growing

but dying

bleeding with knowing

knowing all there is 

to be scared of

and there is so much to be scared of.

Capturing Campus: Christmas for the Dead

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Christmas for the Dead

In the graveyard

with holly and mistletoe

on old oak trees

bare limbs and tinsel

a celebration past sundown

paper snowflakes on headstones

and candy cane bouquets

that can’t be eaten by those with  

missing fingerbones and teeth in odd places

and no nose to redden 

from the biting chill of eve

but they gather and lounge

on hills that are their final home 

to proclaim the festivities are for all

and to all a goodnight