My sheer house

My sheer house is miniscule,
But here and now a lyric
Could take sublime molecules,
Make time's victory pyrrhic.

I give you this offering:
How I lived, a wish afloat
On songs of hope, softening
The wrongs which our scopes promote.

My dream to be feminine,
To see myself seem pretty,
A princess with eminence;
Pinced instead: what a pity.

I grew into depression,
My true self refused, repressed.
Desire became obsession;
To my shame I was possessed.

My own eating disorder
Bound up a need for starving,
Alcohol, and discordant,
Maladaptive wrist carving.

Death was posing constantly,
Its threshold closing around
Each moment of wantingly
Reaching, alone and unfound.

But I'm alive, shockingly,
I survived at rock bottom.
He found me worth pocketing,
Crowned my cursed head with autumn.

Before I was untethered,
Poured my puzzled blood weeping;
When he brought us together,
He bent thoughts that lie creeping.

A half-dozen medicines,
A path that wasn't direct
At last mounted reticence,
Perhaps found something correct.

We shacked up through manifold
Setbacks, yet we grew happy
Trusting plucky animals,
Our muscovy ducks' flapping.

There's still the same confusion.
Will you blame that I re-slept
My years' yearning delusion?
I've merely learned to accept.

I've lost and gained employment,
I've tossed the rains from islands
To focus love's enjoyment;
A voice spoke above violence.

I'll never be omniscient;
So I must weather demons,
Though I fear I'm deficient.
I know my sincere reasons.

I'm not very capable
But caught a merry lifeline.
If even I'm shapeable,
Could seasons prime our lifetimes?

To mention that important
Question: what matters really?
Is self-knowledge supporting
My shelf of solid feeling?

Am I truly self-aware,
Can I duly note defects
In myself that interfere
With my health's tender reflex?

Have I built my quality
Which sadness wilted above;
Deeply lies my policy:
To keep those I call beloved.

What You Turn From

The saddest aspect 
Of anorexia is,
Romance requires food.
So much intimacy lost.
Sharing of subsistence, lost.

I'm on the outside
Of the crucial traditions,
Far from recipes
And family gatherings,
Elfin, alien, lonely.

This Living

I won't refuse it, this living of mine.
Frustration glares at me like a sign:
My era is ending; I'm losing my way.
That's been true, but why decay
When once I bloomed upon this vine?

You know, once I would decline
Handshakes out of terror. How fine
it is now! Kenny drops by and says hey;
I won't refuse it.

I thought I had to change my line.
I thought I had to leave behind
This chapter. Before I never ate,
Now I do with laughter. Why say
That now this humble life's supine;
I won't refuse it.