Too Fat to Drown

A distorted girl, too round around the edges

no numbing mind still embedding

into the malleable mush that her

fat, clammy fingers cannot hold yet.

But let us still stuff an oversized expectation

of casual conformities, forgotten deformities

into the thick folds of her feeble soul.

Running and glazing, two birds fighting

killing the curves no camera can show.

Soft arms creaming wider than

the two lumps of unrequited skin on her cheeks.

Falling and grazing, nibs not nimble

let’s cover that wound with the soil you grow on.

Foreseen, a figure bent down and broken

shaking, sobbing, purging, imploring

dismantling into a bowl that no one knows.

We will keep the deep red, blue, green

(whatever your blood is made out of)

and build deep gashes with nudging tampering

to cut out the extra skin.

Now we have a distorted woman

with ridges along her edges

a notion of servility exuding around the

marrow, the membranes, the minute mocking brains.

She’s obsequious and fine.

Let’s satiate the hunger with words not fed –

creases crowning, you’re slowly drowning.

Photo Credit: SimpleSkye Flickr via Compfight cc

Paakhi Bhatnagar

Paakhi Bhatnagar is a student from India and an avid reader of historical fiction. She is a passionate feminist and blogs about current politics and feminist issues. She also possess the uncanny ability of turning everything into a debate.

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