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
mindlovemisery 
“Perfection is so bony,/So sharp/A pair of trousers woven/Of a solitary thread”- Amazing. 🙂
Thank you so much Anmol =)
Wow, brilliant social commentary wrapped up in intimate and shocking revelation!! 🙂
Thank you kindly Helen =)
Oh this is just so good… hmmm 🙂
Thank you XD
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…
I agree Brian
This is a heartfelt piece. Sad that we woman think this way.
It is very sad
Very sad indeed, and a horrible feeling, I must say. Beautiful poem, though. (:
Thank you Finn