The death (anorexia)

When I was a baby I could close the world up in fleshy pink mitts
Now the world flays the infant palms and the bones drip out in its spit
When I was small I reached up so high and grasped at the morning star
Now the wormwood topples down on me and smashes all my parts
When I was a child my bones spread out like peacock feathers alive
Now the feathers wilt like cancerous boils leaving sagging pores in my hide
When I was of age I saw a gate so wide and a path so broad for the taking
But the road to everything led to a cliff where I sprawled out naked and aching

Now that I'm old I see the light and I see it was never there
Everything leads to nothing nowhere and I don't even care