You're nothing to me but baggage

Reputation Has Blunted Me

Saturday, June 19, 2004

Beware of lipstick calories.
Breakfast: half a grapefruit.
Dinner: Two and a half rice cakes.

* * *

The scale;
measures self worth.
Black lace panties,
reward for bone protruding through flesh,
uprooting the delicate
geographies of loosened skin.

* * *

Face turned inside out,
eyes introverted,
dead before everything
else.

* * *

The breath:
acidic, antifreeze aroma.
Green claws climbing
out of carcuss.
Pollution.
Asphixiation.

* * *

Fingers are the flesh of Jesus,
vomit, salvation.
You made a deal,
traded your face for a bag of bones.
Dance in your insanity,
dabble in your suicide.

* * *

Whatever it was that happened
with Johnny, lead quarterback
and the head cheerleader
in the back of his pickup truck
after the spring dance,
was your calves fault.

* * *

Do not blame it
on your brain,
you need to think.

* * *

Standing in front of your mirror,
clothing at a heap
on the floor.
You stripped your common sense with it.
Respect is peeling off,
like the flakes of dead skin.

* * *

Your twisted face,
now just a tumor
on your project.
Glazed over eyes
still cut through.

* * *

Dissecting
Diagnosing
Deteriorating
Asking when life ends
and death begins.

* * *

If beauty is your motivator
you've killed it.
It hung you out to dry,
tore your from the inside
out.

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