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

This is no classic scene on a movie screen.
This is real life.
And it’s scenes are the most obscene.

This pain is felt first hand,
And your confusion is severe.
We look to the asphalt and to these mechanic machines and
Believe we live in our ancestors virtual dreams.
You scream:
“It’s 2019!”
And take that as evidence of progress;
Like we are closer to ‘the truth‘ now
Than when even our foods weren’t processed?

Progress?
Yes,
We emphasise physicality
And make clowns of our spirituality
So we can parade falsity.

You see,

We latch to this planet like a leach.
Manipulating your free speech
As you learn only what is deemed worthy to teach.
And that’s it!
That’s all you need to know!
Go on, throw a fit
And call it “history in the making”
While you transfer all knowledge in
A glowing rectangle,
And still mistake emotions with rationality
Yes we’ve reached this calamity!

Don’t make me laugh!
You hate war?
But you get bored of peace
And you fetishise your guns.
And this is no longer a secret,
Now you post red and caption it “aesthetic”
And laugh-cry at those who are unfortunate.

Glory is in the body count,
And ****** is just a sport.
Honour is in the gold,
And there’s no longer any justice
In courts.

Truth is
You’re building a fort
Where ignorance is at its foundation.
And while you do not know yourself
You cry “you ought!” To a nation?