Oh
to be the girl in those adverts ,
Light,
skinny,
beautiful
A tragic line
to every gentle rib
I fetishise her fragile fingers
A monstrous beast reflected in the mirror, the worst possibility.

Tis poetic, there she stares
Says her lines; remaining fair,
Into my face, My acting is heavy handed and awkward
She’s a consumable reality,
She’s easy on the eyes
The fragile female,
salvageable.

We are a tragedy of ages, her Juliet, I Faustus
They silently boo while I slop onto the stage
A lazy slob,The **** of society, just don’t eat you fat ****. men like curvy girls We don’t want to see you, You’re so brave!  You’re the problem, it’s not hard hide your mass from view, unkempt, repulsive, vile. hide yourself it offends my sharp eyes.
I open my drooling mouth to speak, but there are chins smothering my mouth
My eyes clouded by greasy cellulite
I don’t want to exist like this.

So just stop eating.


I’d give an arm and a leg,
my pale teeth,
my parasitic possibility
my child

we were a big bang
a beginning
beautiful, prolific, thundering

the bang created matter
it created so much that mattered
but it also created space

as time went on
the space got larger, it expanded
as the noise got softer

the matter was still there,
just farther apart
still beautiful, just changing

our universe got so large
that it was foolish to cling to each other any more
you can’t fight gravity

since we let go
and let our orbits run their course
I feel so free, so strange

a great deal of space separates us now
and our orbits are uncharted
but we will always have come from that big bang

The best of us comes out when the rest of us is gone.

At least,
I hope that's the case as I just want to save face and get away when my days face me with the longest ways around.

The depression sets as I attempt to find my faded song's wasted namesake.
Looking for a better view of the days whereupon my incessant sighs are drawn.

Drawn like a depressive sketch,
With the pencil marks parked along the secrets to peace's faded spark.

My fallacy, you see,
I'd rather breathe within the seas than have to see these things the way they've gone,
Strung me along the heartstrings stretched so thin as to nigh be my patience with this broken masterpiece.

And so,

The best of us are broken when the rest of us are gone.

But, the best in us comes out,
When the rest of us is wrong.