angles.
bones.
angles.
bones.
angles.
bones.
angles.
bones.
angles.
bones.
beauty.
angles.
bones.
angles.
bones.
angles.
bones.
beauty.
beauty.
angles.
bones?
bones?
beauty.
bones?
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
bueayt.
beauty
bueaty
beaueu
beaueee
bueatueu
bueayuyertu
buearueituwoer
beaorfuijoiewjfgia;jdfioawe
beaweoriuapwoeitus;lkdj;slkdjfoawierj

The thin girl.

There are many times
when I look at myself
and think about
You and Me.

I'd say,
"Well.
You would like me more,
if I were thinner."

And both of you would agree.

Forgive me, Lord.
For I am so weak.
I resigned to myself,
and acquitted from my goals.
I feel so weak,
I can't bear to look at myself
straight in the mirror--
for that is the sorry price
I've paid for my
crimes.
The mirror taunts me,
The mirror also gloats.
She stares at me, through that mirror,
her belly button winking at me like her eyes
and they chide me for being so
vulnerable to myself.
I've lost,
to my ignorance,
and lost,
to my illusory, feigned, materialistic sham of happiness--
a sham that can only span for...
(what? three hours?)
Until it's done again.
And now my belly just flops
-relentlessly cascading-
deviously overflowing with greed
at the edges of my pants,
and seethes of revenge
because
"I have NOT treated it
like the temple it feels it is."
(Corinthians spews
of the laws I should have abided by;
I should have sworn my oath at the time.)
Why did I lose You,
amidst all this?

Emaciation Proclamation

I
am
a red
balloon
and I
float
all
d
a
y.
w
a
i
t
i
n
g

for
my
prince
to
come.

i am tied by the base strings
&
i have seen bad weather
at its worst.
i have seen the
hails snows rains bolts cracks
whips and sneers.
&
;
its been mocking
and disappointing.


i
a
m
a
n
c
h
o
r
e
d

by the
%knots%
that whet
my stirs to revenge.

the cold raindrops,
they tickle me as i am tied to my
safe&&steady lifestyle,
rankling my disdain for the
emaciated and free
red
balloons.

and sometimes,
there will be:
purples greens oranges and blues
scattered around the lawn
in the sky,
in the cars,
in the lakes
and they hopelessly flounder
in sardonic jest,
on their wild escapades
with the wind
and the tiny frolicking cats and bees.

that is,
until they

l

o

s

e

i

t

,

madly, violently, outrageously, wantonly
parading on the grass,
impaled by the green, with envy,
plants that wish that they could fly,
too.

i
am
stuck.

i can be free,
but i have no choice
but to float in my pre-determined
Calvinistic
doom.

but when i see you have your fun,
and when i see you glide and stride
to your demise,
lonely and withering on the floor
that you used to taunt
so gaily,


i guess i'm not meant
to live that way.

---

Figure me out.

just glide over me its average and dont bother with words or structure your eyes are enough i can tell.

im just as useful as potting soil and perhaps a decorative fern: no distinct attraction no immediate appeal.

im just there really and theres nothing to remember me by so its okay to forget and its okay to acknowledge that

yes, yes i am no different than that one girl with that one possible hairdo that just passed you by.

but you see, you forgot about that already.

- - -


It goes like this:
I am that $5 sweater on clearance,
in the back of a lonely Mervyn's;
a drab cardigan with a
pallid sickly peach color
(so carefully matching,
with the wall that is)
that was out of season
five months ago.

Drag me

That was a sympathy drag;
a sympathetic sorry drag,
of what intent? I've no clue.

You kinda got me hoping, too.
That things were all right.

But you seem to forget--
(Oh, I get it now. It's because of your...
You Know. "This and That.")

I'm really just the average jane,
so plain that my name can't afford
any exotic letters or characters.

My real name seems all right.
But there's nothing else going for me, it seems.
And I guess that's it.