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Published: 2009-10-23 05:23:42 +0000 UTC; Views: 426; Favourites: 6; Downloads: 12
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Description
Slivers of glass,shards of reflective lies that
embody my hopes -
they compose my paranoid
delusions.
(iamfat iamfat)
I long for skinny mirrors;
mirrors that when I look in
(quick!)
the ropes of thick,
suffocating yellow sludge
that envelop my hideous carcass
will float away down the brackish river,
through the medicated gates of psychotherapy.
And I will forget
the little black squiggles that define
my body,
lines that are so entwined with identity
that there are no lines,
there are no boundaries,
only
bloated fingers bobbing up and down on
the carousel train to the candyland;
I beg for more, and more, and more,
till I can no longer taste the tears on the tips
of my oily, blubbery lashes.
I am denial.
When the walking dead look into
their mirrors,
they see me, waiting to embrace them
in a pillow of fat.
I am the gargantuan uglyyellowmonster
they see crawling down the
scary stairs of their mind to haunt their
almost-dead lives.
I wait for them.
(for I am scary,
for I am binge,
for I am real)
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Comments: 10
annoyingtwin089 [2010-06-15 02:20:18 +0000 UTC]
My favorite part of this are the last three lines. I like that "binge" is a noun in this sense instead of a verb. Those last three lines add a world of power to this poem.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
chief-spazz In reply to Prosaic-Scriptor [2009-10-24 18:45:57 +0000 UTC]
I don't know what I think of it, other than it's interesting.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Prosaic-Scriptor In reply to chief-spazz [2009-10-25 01:24:04 +0000 UTC]
I'll take it as a compliment.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
chief-spazz In reply to Prosaic-Scriptor [2009-10-25 02:58:52 +0000 UTC]
Sure, go ahead. It wasn't meant to insult you.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
chief-spazz In reply to Prosaic-Scriptor [2009-10-26 04:47:12 +0000 UTC]
I know. I was just making sure that I wasn't insulting you, nor, if you were insulted, that I had intended too.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0