an ever looming measure
up and down everyday
my mood hangs on it
heavy and disgusting
a feeling that hangs over

oh, the hours I have lost to the mirror

staring into my own eyes
studying every edge
every inch
with scientific rigour

watching
as my face and body
contort themselves
into new and grotesque angles

the longer I look
the tighter I am wrapped
by the suffocating bonds of truth

the flaws mount
on a carefully noted list
graffiti on my brain
each word seeping thick, black ink
pooling at my feet
rising to my neck

self-loathing is bitter and viscid in my mouth
when I tried to swallow
it wedged
a dry lump in my throat

I wish I could take a knife
to cut away every imperfection
to slim the nose
to slice the fat
to carve the cheekbones
to dig out the freckles
and leave myself a beautiful, ****** mess

I wish I could hold a candle to my face
until it dripped
like wax
soft enough to be moulded
into whatever
whoever
they wanted.