Enduring the prick
Pangs of bloody of accusation
Point to life, death and ribbed cages
Birthing hips
For her pleasure
I can’t believe it’s not better
Than cook, clean, rinse, dry, curl, repeat
Vile bile and the ironed John sheets
Leaving the cleavage of hook,
Line and sink her
Go
Fish
Designer Vagina Blues
Bedazzling
The obligation of a nation to breed loveless legacies spawning good-vibe tribes of genocide, trustafarian followers of click-baited hate
Insufferable boredom looks good through filtered lenses
No peeking
From the shadows of imperfections
Full coverage nudity
Exploited as stand-ins for identity
Filling empty time with filling empty nests
The essence of minimal
Lonely
Small, hungry animals pace
Idyllic imagery
The hypocrisy of marketable self-importance endured by the rest of us
Clamoring at saline cups
Crying for real, over easy
I chose hard boiled hunger
Incubated chicks
Fail to hatch
From hollow shells
Playing tic tac toe with hashtags
Like me
XO
The painting is Unfinished Woman, pencil and acrylic on paper because who has the time to do everything
Born in Providence 
🙂 And the very first line had five possible meanings I could fathom – and multitudinous combinations thereof…
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All the permutations lined up. It was a crowded house.
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Ps: we watched Mary Shelley last night, the story behind Frankenstein. Talk about trying to wake the dead. The bored philandering bougie boys and the plight of even privileged women, well, there it was.
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Sounds like something for my list. You may like “Desperate Romantics” – about the Pre-Raphaelites, by the BBC. I’ve never thought of Dante Gabriel Rosetti the same way again. He was a psychological 3-year-old and sexually an adolescent, wreaking much havoc that way. The dramatisation actually is really funny, despite that – and therefore watchable.
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You had me at BBC.
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It’s our job E! It just doesn’t pay that well, there are no benefits, promotions, recognition or room to move up. We certainly can feed off of our sense of accomplishment, mmmmm nourishing 🙂 Who doesn’t love a sparkling toilet, right? 🙂 🙂
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😂 sigh…I’m still reading The Hungry Self and was just reading this morning about this very conflict; the hunger for nourishment which, with regard to eating disorders, ends up in the same toilets we’re apparently destined to clean.
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Ah ha so that’s why it’s our job to clean them 🙂
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Love this.
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Thanks Mitch 🙂
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I love how cleverly this is written! I don’t know if you planned to have a beat, but the poem has this sort of beat in my head, and your sudden changes in pace makes the whole sound of the poem so much more intense. It was an absolute pleasure to read this.
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Thanks so much! The rhythms and metaphors are always intentional.
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