My hips won't quit
But I've tried many times to fire them.
They continue to exist
In all their circular glory
Making me see my body
Through a fish-eye lens.

My feet won't stop
But I've tried to make them tire.
They grow longer and wider
Until I am convinced I am
The cousin of the Yeti.

My stomach won't end
But I've tried to find the bottom.
It keeps on truckin
Until I resemble a forty year old man
Who's drank several hundred too many bars.
Apparently there's always more room.

My body won't quit.
My brain won't stop.
My heart won't start.