I am counting twelve pairs of ribs lining the perimeters
of my torso
Boney Me
Asthenia fingers
Wasted knees and knuckles
Pricking the hard chords on my chest-guitar
Misery eyes -- Dashing around in dustbin sockets
My head like a raisin with skull-shaped framing
****** inward
Looking at the dead animals guilting me
Looking at the withering plants begging for water
Evil food.
Attracted to the mirror
I know only this
Only what I see -- And I see a sow.
Lost in this possibly regrettable movement
Towards
Skeletons
Boney Me
Looking at the evil food
I tell it that I hate it and that it will never be me
I tell it I want to be like the flossy ones on magazines
Thin to skinny to boney
Boney me smoking an e-cig
I defeat the evil foods tonight
Surviving on primal back-up spirits
Surviving for the hope of closeness
Maybe
I can waste away all this skin
And finally see my own heart.