Jeremy sat barefoot and cross-legged,
a fraction outside
of the circle of chairs
which made up the group therapy session.
Below eye contact,
where he felt more comfortable
and able to sense, more than see
what was vibrating around him.
“I just stopped colouring myself in one day.”
he half-whispered without looking up.
“Food became tiresome and tasteless,
people started to resemble cattle, eating.
Anorexia developed, almost naturally,
into a recreational sport
that I could indulge in
whilst sculpting from the inside out.
Headphones and cigarettes
became my womb, my entire world.
…and it was only…
when starting ‘Cutting’ properly
did colour once more
drip magic back into the grey,
monotonous shadows of my spectator life.”
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