The Weightless One – New Release!

The Weightless One by Anaïs Chartschenko is now available on Amazon!

51hocl72bj2l

After a party changed everything, Miranda loses her appetite. She is placed in an eating disorder treatment program, where she must be brave enough to face the truth she was trying to bury.

anaishood


Anaïs Chartschenko is a poet, singer, and artist I’ve had the pleasure of knowing for some time now. The Weightless One is her third book of dark, gritty, and honest poetry.


Anaïs Chartschenko hails from the Canadian wilderness. She has come to enjoy such modern things as electric tea kettles. Her published works include two collections of poetry, Bright Needles and The Whisper Collector as well as a novel in verse, The Weightless One.

You can find her on several social media platforms, such as Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Amazon, and YouTube— and none of them are boring.

Additional places to wander:

Website: http://anaischartschenko.weebly.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15387157.Anais_Chartschenko

BEWARE: Anaïs is suspected of actually being a fairy-in-disguise.

Other Books By Anaïs:

The Whisper Collector

Buy Bright Needles

Interested in Anaïs music?

Buy Howling at the Moon: Live from my Living Room

Buy Immigration

Excerpt from The Weightless One

 Reasons I Have To Stay

I was signed in,

I have no choice.

They tell me

My heart is failing.

They tell me

When you starve

Long enough, your body

Starts to eat your muscles.

Your heart is a muscle. It becomes

Your unwilling dinner.

They show me charts with

Low iron, low this and low that.

They tell me I need to take this

Serious.

But it doesn’t seem real.

All that is real is my sudden

Total lack of control, total

Forced surrender, it feels

So broken it can never be

Fixed-

I can’t agree to any of these

Things. Not even when I

Feel my heart forget a beat.

Not even when I’m hooked

To machines.

Reasons I Should Get To Leave

I don’t count calories.

I don’t weigh myself.

I don’t obsess over models.

I don’t exercise.

I don’t take laxatives or

Diuretics.

I don’t make myself

Throw up.

I don’t care what you think.

I think for myself.

I’m not this, I still have

My period.

Okay?

 

Little Fish

 We lay in a tight row

Like sardines,

Wrapped tight in

Blankets and thick

Fuzzy pajamas

Getting our blood

Pressure checked

Lay down, and close

My eyes to the other

Girls’ gossip, they

Try to include me,

But I have nothing

To say in the morning

This is a strange torment,

Laying so close to the others

Trapped between laughter

And the talk of having to

Drink ensures or not,

Of having to go to an

Increased nutrition plan,

Of family therapy sessions

Coming at the end of the

Week.

 

Doll

 Kara began

Pulling out

Her hair

Extensions

Bundles of

Blonde lay

On the floor,

Her lion mane

Alopecia found

“I’m sick of

 The lies!”  She

Twisted her

Face up her

Hands knotted

In hair

“Where did this

Come from?

I didn’t grow it!”

We watched

In horror

We watched

Unable to

Look away

From her

Transformation

Underneath she

Was so small

Like a fragile glass

Doll,

Her features too

Large for her head

Her hair was only

A few inches long

Thin dirty dishwater

Blonde strands like

Weeds dried out

In the sun

She smiled

She laughed

She burrowed

Her face in

Borrowed hair

And

Cried.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s