a body like a wisp
of smoke curling into lines and curves.
fragile and smooth, enclosed in a little piece of skin
translucent and cold to the touch.
dust collecting on the bottoms of feet.
weights on your shoulders that would crumble strongmen like old playing cards.
on your back you carry stupid and ugly and notgoodenough.
you haul them around everywhere you go and
somehow you still drag this corpse of a vessel out of bed,
brush off everything that you’ve been, and
pretend that your lungs remember how to breathe.
—  dedicated to panicattack1 - 12-18-14