Fat ball and chain,
The sweet suffocation of the soft body,
I love my prison,
That so called undesirable container.
The stretch marks like cravings on the wall, counting the days of my life,
The uniform of skin covers me.
To be locked up, trapped,
My body- my cell?
Or my facilitator?
To interact and intercept.
Even if I am a prisoner - can’t I be happy here?
In the jelly coating,
Thick, secure, a pillow layer,
Do you know how I feel?
Take me in your hands,
Get the evidence for yourself,
Commit the crime of experiencing the unfashionable figure,
Are you thinking about your mother when your face is between my full breasts?
When you’re in the cell with me too?
Feels like home doesn’t it?
There’s not enough air in here for both of us, you’ll have to get out.
I watch the room begin to age,
The ceiling stretched, now loose, hanging down, never to return to flat flesh.