I feel like I need to cut off my skin,
But carefully.
The zipper's gotten stuck on my favorite dress.
I tried to bear it tattooed for a while
But at this point it's a ruined,
Matted,
Muddy mess.
I want to have it redyed and shaped,
Dry cleaned and carefully pressed.
I want to slip into it like silk again.
Move with the breeze.
Never want for rest.
I want a lot of things.
Chinese and Art and Modelling and Poetry.
But although I have all these achievement's names I would gladly scream,
I desire Decadence,
Wonder and Ease in my body most overwhelmingly.
______________________________
Author's Note:
I like this.
I like it a lot.
It's like the whole 'your body is a meat suit' thing.
But I don't want my meat garment to be a suit.
That would be a bit too rigid for me.
Formal in a boring corporate way.
I prefer a nice flowy dress I can just pull off when I feel the urge to go skinny dipping with the gods and fairies.
But that's just me.
What is your preferred meat garment?
Jump suit? Saree?
Let me know. 💕💕
YOU ARE READING
M O S A I C
PoetryIt's called a crush for a reason. In the aftermath, you're left broken and scattered. Burning, vibrant colors without a gradient. Patterns without shape. But what do you become after you've been crushed? A Mosaic.
