body

a shattering crash.
into fate’s fickle fingers.
to question it all.

hot buns remind me
of beaches and summer fun.
human sausages.

whittled to the nib
clawing and scraping for more.
trail of tears and blood.

in the mirror i saw myself stare
not really knowing the man standing there
i took a step back
did a jumping jack
and thought what the fuck do i care.

there once was a man with a zoo
who stared at the birds as they flew
so one day he made
wings from a spade
said the wife at the funeral of lou

shoulder to shoulder
i am squashed amongst the fat.
where’s the breathing room?