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Bugs Spencer Aug 2021
words, I read them
they are stuck in my brain
words, I know who they are from
speak, but I stay in my lane

words, they slice my thumbs
sliding them across the screen
words, what have they made me become?
speak, but I'm only a teen

words, they made me succumb
can someone know my pain
words, can I ask someone to come
speak, "I need help to stay safe and sane"
David Adamson Aug 2021
Fiery light from a dying star
Cools against your mocha thigh.
Desire formed like fingers
Rustles your hair’s dark light.

Body to body and breath to breath,
We are here and nowhere else.
Unposted selves,
Love without likes,
Hands without keyboards,
Voices in air,
The absence of absence.
Chloe Carey Jul 2021
Thigh gaps, no fat flabs.
Bronzed goddess, half naked bodice,
We all buy into this masquerade
But let me tell you something, pretty fades

Society warps media to show us an unachievable dream,
One we will chase down till the day we run out of steam,
And then what?
They fabricate lies, telling us that if we have a gap between our thighs and pretty blue eyes,
Which will get the attention of guys and that’s the ultimate prize, right?

Diet suppressing pills that make you feel filled but are you fulfilled?
Running till blisters cover your heels,
Skipping those meals,
How did that make you feel?
Are you happy?
No
Because that’s the trick.
You’ll scroll social media and just as quick,
You don’t like what you see anymore,
It’ll make you sick.
You have to be skinny but hey wait we also like em thick,
So which do you pick?

But lets not forget the ones who scream ‘body posi’
And then say ‘oooh she’s too skinny’
‘That cant be healthy’
‘Gain 20 pounds, eat a Big Mac’
‘Guys don’t like girls with a small rack’
Is that a fact?
‘You need some meat on your bones’
Yeah well my body is my home, and I don’t remember inviting you in
You see, body shaming is a two way street,
Don’t go telling her she needs to eat,
Or her bones need some meat,
Stop fighting each other its this ideal were trying to beat

And then there’s those of us in the middle.
You’re not quite skinny but you’re not quite thick so you’re not allowed to complain,
‘You don’t know the pain’.
They call you skinny,
So you say you’re a size 12,
They say ‘that cant be’
They don’t believe me.
Just because I know how to dress my body to look a certain way
Does not mean that I don’t resent what I see at the end of the day.

I am sick of wanting to look like somebody else.

I am sick of crying every night in bed, and wanting to be dead
and to that voice in my head..
*******!
Stop telling me that no one will love me
Because I have a tummy
Because that’s not true.

And when I get a flat stomach then what?
What my hips are too wide? ***** too small?
**** too flat? Do you like anything at all?

No matter what I do there will always be something wrong with me in your eyes.
Ill never be good enough for you,
No matter how hard I try, how much I cry,
That wont change and nether will I.
You’ve made me wish I had the discipline to starve myself so you know what?
Go **** yourself

Comparison is the thief of joy, and I’m a serial burglar.

The Media shows you pretty and what a shame
Because beauty is not the same.
There are no standards or aims.
It’s not about how you look,
It’s about how you took
The gift of life
And you breathe and you blink
And you create and you think.
Beauty is laughing out loud.
It is being proud
Of yourself and everyone else.
Beauty is the smell outside after rain,
Picking yourself up after all that pain,
It’s keeping calm when you feel like you’re going insane.
It’s forgive and forget
No regrets,
Beauty is living.
Beauty is how you feel and breathe
Because you’re alive.
It’s determination, perseverance because you strive,
To be the best, because you expect
Nothing less,
From yourself.

The more you try to adhere to what society wants you to look the more you’ll feel like crap,
It’s a trap,
Now I’m not saying the key to happiness will just fall into your lap,
It’s hard. I know.
It takes time, work and energy,
But for the possibility,
That you like what you see
To be happy?
Isn’t it worth it?
My body is a work of art.
Tattoos and piercings line my skin,
I haven’t loved my body
But I can begin.

Society profits off of your self-hate,
Don’t take the bait,
It’s not too late,
Speak to yourself as you would your best mate.
When I die, my body is not my legacy.
Mourners will not say ‘lovely girl, shame about the belly’
‘Ya I agree,
A smart girl but not that pretty’
Nobody’s going to say
‘I loved her but her flat chest
Was not the best’
As they lay me to rest
The world will not come to a stop
Because of my muffin top
And I refuse to be a prop
In this production.
Killing myself to get a slim waist, big ****,
Big *****, small gut
And for what?
To perpetuate the message that you have to look like this too?
No, I refuse
If not for me, then for you.

I like my body
I don’t love it….. yet anyway
But I will one day
And that’s ok.
Find the charm in every mole, stretch mark and roll,
And don’t lose yourself
To the infinite scroll.
It’s not easy, I don’t have a simple solution,
But
Loving yourself is the greatest revolution
A spoken word I wrote on body image which I then performed as a TED Talk
Nigdaw Apr 2021
why do we care
who follows us
narcissistic popularity
with faceless friends
who we have no hope
of ever catching up with
they’re not coming round
for tea and cake
you’re not cooking dinner
opening the wine
laying the table just right
none of them really give a ****
because like you
they want your likes
like for like
liking you living your best life
in the two second spotlight
of their stream
these are new friends
avatars on a screen
edited to oblivion
so you can barely see
where the cracks begin
we live in the moment
and report every movement
hoping someone will love us
so we can lead them on
Life lived in a virtual world.
Juliana Apr 2021
A grid of nine, trapped behind
the locked box of cyberspace,
unavailable, calling for me.

The pink hues of stories and pictures,
the celebrities announcing another ad,
an AMA, capturing the repeated days.

A robotic stage, the marvelous mingling
of strangers, of friends we’ll never truly meet.
It’s hard to stay away for long.

The green and blue bubbles of simplicity.
Of how was your day. Of excitement. Of plans.
A concert of lyrics addressed only to me.

The bird which sings for all to hear.
The nerds who look up from their book
to smile a hello. The chaotic certainty
of community, calling for me.

After a day away, I’ve arrived back home,
the rectangular refuge of a reimagined reality.
Daisy Ashcroft Apr 2021
Tell me a time
U needed me
A time u grabbed ur phone
2 text me.

Have u ever rung me
In the depths of the night
Just to hear my voice
In the darkness?

U could say u had
U could tell me u need me
But I’d see our messages
Or rather, my messages:

The lines and lines
Of my words,
Calling ur name,
That go on for miles.

Punctuated by one of urs
A smile :)
Or a word
And nothing more.

How can ily
When u never respond?
How can I be obsessed
When there’s nothing:

No message
For me to obsess over.
Ily
But u never,
ever reply :(
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