300 pounds,
Well-built,
Stumping on the dusty sand,
Golden chains fall off his neck,
Thick rings depart from a block of fingers,
Jo plunges into heavy waters,
Swims,
Boasts in his riches,
Disappears.

Would you love all the fat?
The fried chicken in his legs?
The alcohol filling his stomach,
To the point of exhaustion,
To the regret of a feeble button,
Too superficial,
Too excited,
To remain amongst the rest.

Do you know the weight of his soul?
200 lbs,
500 lbs,
He's got too much heart,
Much mass,
Tough skin.