Darling Magazine

She’s always a woman (to me) Summer Green   Her narrow route is paved with wobbly stones and sticky tar and is obscured from the sunlight S he manoeuvres her way through the tight gaps of the closing walls,  tiptoeing, as if She were walking on eggshells  while Her skin is scraped and burnt with the friction of  Her tightening cage l ooking up, She notices the ceiling looking back at Her i ts concrete is laced with disapproving eyes and cameras   that blink and snap as She struggles h eavy breath scream s  down the silent tunnel, while  unspoken  words pool inside Her mouth voicing them would only scold Her tongue   a s She reaches the end, She looks behind Her  and notices him as he   strolls through the same path that had just pulled Her apart from every angle  and told Her to be quiet and squished Her body until it fit the very contours of  its expectations,   unaffected.

My monthly massacre Summer Green   I ’ ve been shot in the belly  whil e  watching the telly my insides  they  melt through the couch   I ’ ve been shot in the head  my veins bulging red as my body gyrates into a slouch   I ’ ve been shot in the spine blood  viscous like  wine  I let out a  sweaty   fatigued  grunt   I ’ ve been shot in the thigh  the pain rolls my eyes it’s  lik e I’ ve been punted in the cunt   I ’ ve been shot in the belly  while watching the telly fuck sake,  it’s my time of the month.

Let me eat Summer Green   Why must  my  body melt before  my  own  eyes Why must it  twis t  and distort like those  shitty  tissue fish you get in Christmas  crackers Why must it,  except with less grace and confidence  and  more of a painful confluence   between self-loathing and a love of  beautiful  clothing  that just sits   wrong Why must   c ircular circus  mirrors comfort me  more than my own fingers , because they bend my body and  so  my brain  can refrain from doing so  itself Why must I lust to be long and long to be lusted for and thirst to be less  hungry Why must  my brain  prioritise deception over giving love to her who walks and runs and breathes and embraces for  me Why must I glare in the passing reflection of the train and thank it for not showing me my perception because I don’t need to reflect on my  S elf  today Why must I  ache for  reassurance that  they too tear their skin with their own mind’s  teeth and that they are too aware that they are too unkind to th

by Emily Duff Kim looked absolutely stunning at The Met Gala! She was positively glowing and  to wear a dress as iconic as Marilyn Monroe’s ‘Happy Birthday Mr President’ look is amazing.  Unfortunately, it is being reported that Kim Kardashian had no Carbs or Sugar for Three Weeks prior to The Met Gala. Even more unfortunately, these reports are glorifying the diet as an accomplishment. Fashion is art. And, if you decide to not eat to create your art, you are free to do so. I completely understand that everyone has free will to do as they please and to take these extremes in order to be proud of what they create and to produce the desired affect. However, should an event as big as the first Monday in May really promote these kinds of crash diet fads? My issue is not with the dress, Kim or even The Met - it’s with this lifestyle being presented as something to applaud. That is scary.  People should not be encouraged to follow suit for the sake of losing weight. With eating disorders on