The Body
Underneath these layers I dwell, I live, the being I am is full.
In the mirror I see my shell, hungry and wide, squat and thick, with lumps of flesh sitting on my chest staring back at me with twisted amusement.
With each step I jiggle, my flesh stacked upon itself, rolled and shelved together, stretching out the skin, exploding in slow motion, filling with jelly, a steamed dumpling.
The lumps the curves the weight of all my skin, supported with fat, rested on my bones, spells out female, overweight.
Inside I bang at the walls with my fists I scream throw up, sick with my reflections, hair stuck in my teeth, spitting up flesh.
I am nothing inside, but human and living. Yet my prison portrays me to others as a lie, they smile and call me beautiful, a false and bitter reality.
My bones disappear, devoured by creamy fat, milk turned yogurt turned cheese turned rotten, stinking garbage.
In the mirror I see donuts, ice cream, brownies, cake, pie with every topping, chocolate syrup dribbling down my chin, whipped cream eyes with chocolate chip middles, tears like sprinkles so sweet my teeth ache.
My voice cannot be heard, female teeth clenched around those words, chewing them up and spitting them out, day after day until it is a steaming mess around the body's feet.
