We live in a place that exists in theory.
We are living breathing ideas.
You will know us
only after we have stretched the seams of
the hearts you can't seem to mend. along t
The trashy magazines
that you avoid at the market,
but devour in the checkout line
– they were made for us.
We are beautiful monsters
– no soul,
but a body that you’d kill for.
And you do.
You overflow your bodies with so much water
that you become a living, dying irony.
You serve us up teenage daughters
who never age,
never form hips,
You forbid your women motherhood
– their bodies and wombs so underdeveloped
that they cannot sustain new life.
Your ability to survive baffles us.
We pretend we do not want this,
but – in truth – we are drunk on it.
We are drunk on your need for us.
Long for us.
Because we long for you.
Being us tastes just as sweet as you think it does
– and, sometimes, better.
We will shadow your sense of self
until you outgrow us
and no longer need us to show you how to live.
(Image: Graham John Bell)