Chatter

I will be patience
And you can be sin
We'll trade places for a day
Grafting thought onto skin
I'll make an origami crane to repent
And trade you all my right angles
Mend my mind around mine
And bend my thoughts into circles
They say curves speak to the soul
And angles borne of men
Craft the intellect of women
Who think beauty is reflection
But men don't want our bones
We've been sinning for no reason
Under the assumption that our thinning
Is our most winning feature
Fast and ye shall receive
A feast of hungry eyes
It's no surprise when the desired
Complain of being compared
To a piece of meat
Saying,
'I will not be likened to what I have the privilege not to eat'
No lessening of self
Should befall our lesser selves
It's only me who does the butchering
Only I who cuts the me
My curves a prize of flesh
My thoughts a war of worlds
So hateful in one hemisphere
And then so loving and secure
I tip my hat to those
Who are snobs of the body
Because they reap the benefit of
Each target's reasoning
Reasons
And reason
After reason
Why my face should be plastered
Or my ass should be spackled
I've come a long way with reasons
Making knife turn decisions
Around every curve
I cut and snip out all the round words
Whole being the one
That trumped even confidence
I can be confident even
With a razor's edge held to
My own deflating body
Pierce every engorged appendage
Until I've let out all my self-(esteam)
Becoming paralyzed by angles
Trying to fit circles
into edges
Taking a mallet to my hips
And praying to be liberated
Angles speak to the intellect
But curves speak to the soul
I am still trying to break each ruler
While digging my own hole