12.05.06

My body bloated,
plump, stretched taut with discontent.
Ennui multiplies,

reproduces like
cancer cells—once satisfied,
now satiated

beyond capacity.
Overindulgence breeding
boredom, tedious

exchanges with love,
poetry, friendships and I
feel that all should be

able to see these
tumors building up, dangling
from limbs like bags of

wet sand
or potato
salad, or whatever.
So far, no one has remarked on
my lumps.

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