Take a look at your hair,
your skin
the color of your eyes
the space between your teeth
and your words, the cadence
with which they erupt
from your imperfect mouth, the syntax
tripping, flowing, smooth like
broken glass
Take a look at the things
that keep you up at night, the
sites you visit
in the bathroom
home alone, but with the door locked
anyway
the nightmares you’re afraid to tell
the hands you wish would reach for yours
across the universe of shame
the vacant way you stare and raise your hands
in praise
Take a look at your twisted limbs, your fractured smile, your thickened middle
evidence
of greed and gluttony
Take a look at the god you cry to
when your self becomes too much,
staring down the barrel
one finger on the trigger
the other in the air
Take a look at the wreckage
that your life has left behind, at the emptiness around you
at the vacuum that you are
shrunken, flaccid, impotent and weak
Take a look and see
how beautifully easy
it would be
to become the
hated thing.