a six step guide on how to weigh a person:
1-
they start at the fingertips and count
the silver-lined paper back nicks
and the drops of blood
(fifteen years old, no blood on the hands)
2-
the arms, they're long and veiny
translucent and sculpted by michaelangelo of marble and hard work and sweat
but not love
he said every block of stone has a statue inside it
but there is no love built in stone, it might be too congested for love to live and reside inside human flesh which replicates stone
3-
heart.
it thumps.
ba dum. ba dum. ba dum.
a miniature drummer, fed lies and happiness and deceit and love
there's so much more to tell you about it, but they'll leave you with this: its important.
4-
there is molten sadness that weighs down the brain
it has formaldehyde insulating it to prevent it from leaking
up and around and out of the ears and down onto the cheeks like a river polluted with places and things and people and animals you lost
(eighteen years old, it happens quite often)
5-
skinned knees and bruised shinbones
and self-inflicted battle scars
litter the legs
marks left behind by little trekkers who come and go and never really seem to want to stay because
why would they?
they set up tents on the inside of the thighs and spend the night there
and they are gone the next morning
6-
the human anatomy is
so complex
