Dysmorphic

See here this reclamation A simple lie; a completed circle That I dare not see In this state, is arbitrary Wash my hands in the bathroom Look down look down Feet like lead weights, clamped to the spot This black skin is not my sin Voices unheard in the innermost din We stand in perpetual…

Notions of Self

She didn’t like what she saw when she looked at her own image, but she hadn’t always felt that way. Once upon a time she was free. Everyone was. Free to just be, without a barrage of comparison and inadequacy pummelling us in the face with every wave of a finger. The foul image of…