Skip navigation

My tummy, swollen with chopped and chewed emotions
confirms betrayal.
Who knows who I am?

I dream beneath thick sheets of memory foam
and wake up drowning in lipids
I get obsessed with pinching my hips and thighs
forcing fat cells to burst like bubble wrap
This body is grotesque
This body is embarrassing
and pregnant with inadequacy.

My cheeks bulge against my jaw line like fresh-out-the-package jock straps
professional baseball players pull-up before a home game
My waist folds over my acid-washed jeans the way whipped cream melts down the sides a cup of hot chocolate
My love handles are merely overexposed parts of my body proving
“Love is not handled very well here”

Friedrich Nietzsche promised me, my enemies would get the best of me.
Who knows who I am? Behind the shower curtain
Who knows who I am? Behind my reflection
Who knows who I am? Behind my smile
Promises, promises rotting beyond control.

Britta B.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: