dysmorphic delirium

habitually stretching collars

fresh from the outlet mall

so that mirror who sees me

will atleast feel wrong

my pencil stick fingers

instinctually thrust into my throat

ill go and check the scale

convincing myself it broke

and i look in that mirror

and nothing will ever change

i still see pudgy skin stretching

from phantom growing pangs

but nothing ever changes

even though i fit in those pants

i try to check in that mirror

but its so deeply inscribed, that i cant

Reviews

[Beren]

Why do I feel like I've read this poem before? I don't know any other writer who can write on every subject as much as you do. You can blend every topic with your own emotions and turn it into your own words. Talent himself

[Dorian]

A powerful poem. I can relate