Fat, fat, fat.
All I see is fat.
I am the "chunkiest", the "chubbiest", the "roundest" and the "ugly pig".
I might as well be a rat, the biggest of the big.

Fat, fat, fat,
All I see is fat.
I am "just right", "average", "normal" or "perfect size."
They lie every single time, and hell, just 'like that'.

Fat, fat, fat,
All I see is fat.
I am "too skinny!", "I wish I looked like you", "wow! Size zero jeans?!" and "underweight".
Yet, I refuse to touch this cold, stocked plate.

Fat, fat, fat,
All I see is fat.
I am "awful", "dying", Miss "eat something" and "throne of bones".
Yet, this body will never be my souls rightful home.

Fat, fat, fat.
All I ever will be is fat.
Even in a long gown and stuck to the end of an I.V pole,
With doctors and psychatrists and loved ones crying and begging me to just "recover, please come home!"

I am still fat.


The hospital bed is empty,
My bed is left untouched,
There is a silence as the wearers in black all sob and stare silently at the body in the ground.
Devasted and hushed...

I see them, but can no longer speak.
No longer able to feel, no longer live,
Forced to watch time pass and hearts mourn...
Their days now heartbroken and bleak.

My  best friend doesn't speak, she now sits alone,
My mother sobs every night, family reminded
so often of my presence,
The one who secrelty loved me has loved no more,
Even my pets still wait outside my door.

Those who knew me, only can remember me in the things left behind,
Even the sun itself rarely shines.


Dead, lost, gone.
I am no longer fat,
But I also no longer- belong.

Awed by her splendor
stars near the lovely
moon cover their own
bright faces
when she
is roundest and lights
earth with her silver

i don't want to go down screaming,
but i know if i looked out the window and the plane was on fire i'd be screaming the loudest-
some unearthly sound bellowing out from my h.pylori gut.
my mouth; wide open catching dust.
and what is that? "i guess that's fear", they would-
i can't do anything so i'm gonna pin back my ears and open my roundest hole and let it loose. let her rip. like a donkey.
like a sad sad reality that equals nothing,
just screaming and screaming and screaming and i can't do anything.
the plane is already going down.

You have the roundest head I've
ever seen,
Defensive,
It looks like a baldspot but it isn't,
The soft pulsing of the room,
Sit sweet,
melodious,
cacaphony via 80 dollar
made in Indonesia,
Staring deep within the wooden casket,
to find out,
just where it came from,
There are people that
treat this world as if
they lived in a prison,
those that are not,
conscious of the concept, realism
they'll never truly understand,
that it is all a prison and ****,
a cacophony of rightness
and wrongness.

The light ever draped,
over shadow's shoulder,
the comforting caress,
of wonderful abandonment,
wrought for not,
want less.

And at him She
can't get up *****
***** She won't get
Down roundest town
She got snow seek ritz.
Not in ease et al.
Sipped at air
Owe win.

Thin call parties
Heard ur now
Sewn unwell been
In fight head.
Know shuns Felt
Ired real lies ten
Spied her
Sell fear yeah till
All ill own.

Thoughts big inner red
sighed dread kin days
pull its fair ingots
true an ask whoop
A Fool.
Errand freight sands
rebate witch whit

Wit sending she sings
A mall of us
Sudden leaps
wings to retch doubt
stun dare each tout
Ooh dues we
fund her joy

none drive all seas
Her Hollers treat tang
Urge greed sold eighths
Whim bling out
Loud Uncle Ear....

All good thin geese


must
calm.
   tune
      in.

[Ready?]
Yes but I really don’t approve of your obvious use of anabolic steroids. It’s an amoral and cowardly shortcut. And don’t even get me started on the innumerable adverse effects. Don’t even get me started.
[Can you keep up ?]
Of course but can we talk? Can we talk? The size and shape of your head is comical who do you think you’re kidding? You have, by far, the roundest head I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but imagine you as an obtuse High School English professor who doesn’t understand the source of his students’ laughter but really, it’s because you gave me a C on an essay because you say I had a “circular” argument. Or as an equally clueless physics professor generating chuckles left and right in response to your lecture on “spherical” whatsits in a vacuum.
[Are you tired?]
No, we’re not done yet—Am I right? Am I right? Look at you. If God ever were to create guns or pumps or pecs of that size, it would only be by way of some syntax error.
[How about now?]
No, let me finish—Who are you trying to impress? Masculinity most certainly isn’t the word to use. I’d say monstrosity. Who do you think is or would be attracted to a walking, talking industrial sized freezer. If a woman needs protection, she’ll find a guard dog of necessary ferocity. Or maybe, she’ll cultivate some kind of relationship with you and find comfort in the fact that if she ever upsets you, you could break the ***** in half without the slightest hitch.
[……]
I don’t even want to know the state of the pinpricks you at one point called your testicles
[……]
I wouldn’t even say it’s proper to call you “Mr. Universe”. You’re big, but you’re not that big. I’m more inclined to call you “Mr. Pampered and Pumped up New England”. I cannot comfortably call you Mr. Universe because I’m not comfortable having you represent my universe. The “Mr.” signals the “Master”. That’s just appalling. And what is with the spray tan? What is the true pasty picture of Mr. Universe throughout the winter months?  If someone ever has a question for the Master of the universe, I’ll be sure to tell them to direct their questions to the beefed up and bloated tangerine to my left.
[……]
……
[……]
Are we done?
[No]
How far have we gone?
[Nowhere]
What?
[You have gone too far, but we haven’t even walked out the door. Once you’re finished running your mouth, we can work on getting your fat, saggy *** into shape.]

A sea of buttery happiness
Is home to the roundest of islets
Side by side they wallow.

Quite naturally, the islands,
Are covered in ham.
Ham? Ham!
And lazily perched
On the hams highest point
Sits an avian sphere
Perfectly poached.

Straining against its
White little straight jacket.
Pop.

barely it was swaying terrifically in cotton wind of sharp niggling wafers that flummox specially the growling infant sea, this lake, where i am by and satting with my soft particular femme who's metal slithers from her very roundest nostrils glinting rather unobtrusive and stubbornly silver. and jousting by in meager dollops college children blatantly. a basic scent of nonsense huddles on the 2's and 3's (or mayhaps more) they slant upon the dappled lazy soil reticent and uncouthly tread upon with flats little souls. their heads are fat with gullible churning knowledge. they farted from the dusted books. that stately chord of mugging music. that lays in bricks and mortared sighs. on the hillest of tops over looking the cordial bay.

Stringing my words together like
garland on the aluminum tree
whose lights flicker on and off haphazardly
bouncing from silver tin leaf
to silver tin leaf.
I stammer and push them
out with my tongue.
until I become my mama's face
from the effort.
Those words, they push to come out
a labor-
out into the world, newborn babes.
As i sputter and kick them
(no graceful exit
from me).
Yet the lush ones wont leave me,
my throat swallows them whole
with the smooth roundest effortless bite
that they are not.
And my tongue recoils, curls between letters-
hides in the punctuation
rears from the bitter.
So I stumble and
stammer
and quite a fool myself, make.
Gulp until I am knotted  inside
and I leave this foolish talk alone
at the bottom of the sea of bile.
I leave this talk to stronger folk,
or younger folk
or kinder souls than me.
I shut my face door.
Shut it, slam it
and leave this talk to better dreamers than me.

sahn
2/12/15

beautiful explicit female thing
you're so
                  OWE
                             and so
                                           OH
you do pretty little painful
noises(and glad noises too)
when i pluck you darling
(your roundest strings perfectly)
and i engender a moist electric
current burst writhing from
the casual promenade of
your lascivious betweenknees
my hands glide smoothly
into cresting heaps of heaven

if i know a strength then i know a weakness
(and i know it)
                            come
                     right  over
                      here and i'll
                                           tell
                                    you
                    ­       what
                                    it
                     ­                   i  s
                                         ­     (i'll whisper it to you)
                                                    and it is you!
                                           it is in your slightest body's
                                           cavities that is where it is
                                           the 2 immeasurable heaps
                                           of your *******(who between
                                           them hold that flittering stutter
                                           of your love muscle)over your
                                           tummy they distend perfectly
                                           roundest and nubile
                                           and over what a belly
                                           that patient field of softest dermis
                                           (but it's not perfect(and that's why i love it)
                                           )it's besmirched by some little coarse darlings
                                           who meander down its sloping palisade
                                           into the impolite swarm of your hips
                                           those dears creep down into a sturdy
                                           copse of sharply culled(by little pretty pink
                                           razors when you took a shower last night)
                                           filaments(and those prickle babes poke and
                                           tickle my nostrils as i build into your strongest
                                           smallness a leaping vociferous erosion,
                                                        ­                                                         '
                                                               ­                                               '
                ­                                                                 ­                                ,
                                                               ­                                            .

I was holding a tornado in a jar
Lid on as tight as I could *****
I heard the glass start to shake
Like a window, but I didn't think circles could shake,
I thought they were sturdy
In the roundest of sense.
I could've let it loose
Watched cards fly around.
But pieces of cardboard never have a choice. Let just fall where they may.

The boy with the green henley, I’m in lust
And I must tell this story of the first day.
The beaming sun, the grass full of distrust
That first day was perfect and all of play -
Leaning over each other, talking of class
And of past fancies, our favorite candies
And we both know who has the roundest ***
I put on a little Daft Punk, dancies
Together - while, the sun left for the moon,
darkening the sky, pulling the two of
Us - with dinner and a second date soon
The two of us, snug as an older glove.
Closer now, the boy with the laugh like bells -
He won’t ever give me visions of all of the hells.

sitting squarely
at the roundest table
she wrote
as if her words
would unleash a power
to heal the face
of this Earth
an arsenal
of poetic verbiage
aimed
at disarming weapons waged
against humanity...
phrases waving white flags
across the page
summoning up
courage in us
to come
back to where
the conversation
is!