vanity is a tricky thing. it’s funny how a
sliver of glass can destroy you,
make you see the parts you wish to bury
deep
down.
and it whispers temptations of skipped meals
and losing time with friends
with hollow words
hollow like your frame
hollow as you’ve become
because you thought you gained weight

do you ever just
feel
the weight of the world
balancing precariously
on your curved spine,
like a dancer who
missed
the beat throwing the
entire
company out of line
we may all have
troubles
but mine are
anchored
to the lungs, with every
aching breath another
mouthful
of blood

like the
carrion crow
you
scavenged
on my mad
descent
and
forced
love
from the
walking dead

time
is the crease in my
brow
or the flecks in my
skin
not the manic
tick
tock
of an overworked
clock