My ostentatious limbs churn

As if to fashion cream of air

Substance of translucency

Costumed amongst transients

I slip between reels of neon

A cunning starlet underfed

To seduce the archaeologists

Lovers of bone and ruination


Until I am thin

I shall not dress to define,

I shall not dress at all

A dimpled moon rotating stoically

In an onerous black cloak

I shall employ only enormity

To disguise, to disguise

The truth of my loneliness

Perfection is so bony,

So sharp

A pair of trousers woven

Of a solitary thread



12 thoughts on “Starve

  1. underfed to deuce the archaeologist….what they do to their bodies is…ugh….
    the second part made me smile…i think we should relish in the natural body
    and not go for the sold idealism…

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