Cigarettes & Diet Coke

  

I’ve trashed all my dieting books
one fell swoop, arm swept across the shelf
pages plummeting down into the garbage.
I’m somewhat satisfied by this
ritualistic declaration of change.
Of course it won’t last.
My bulk is explosive
tick-ticking away, the detonator hidden
within the recesses of flesh,
organs tinged rose-pink.
Take a drag and contemplate the exhale,
know it’s all just futile theatrics
that manana, or the next,
one spoonful will be resisted.
Then on, exponentially, to the Nth degree,
a cartoon snowball rolled down a mountainside;
the inevitable splat at the end.

Thinspirations

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Broken silence stutters;
an interrupted heart beats
reverberates and seeks a rhythm
that levels out the pain.
Laments that hang on tip of tongue
in hollow silence, strangle the lungs
a life this way is only unlived
occasional fire-sparks pricking the veil
little needle holes against the gloom;
nothing echoes through this skin of mine.
Only the distinct tiny wounds,
little nicks in the aorta.
Air’s cut off again, strangled and drowning
in the putrid lathered waves.
Like a little girl standing at a wishing-well,
more hopes pinned on a solitary penny
than a zealot’s prayer to his deum.
Looking through the window-pane
in silent eyes, I see the sunny meadowed bliss
but do not fight my restraints,
sparing them from the reflections in my eyes
all mirrored haunted shadows