I have found that my body is not my own

My words have been written into the creases that line

The rolls of fat

The dazzle of skin

I do not control these contortions of being

These bend to no will but their own

These muscles stretch in phantasmic ways

I am a stranger entwined in a pure-life sentence

No chance of parole.

 

I have found that the eyes that look back in mirrors

are reflections of things I don’t think

Hands write in curls that aren’t mine

I can’t claim my own signature

Instead I am

A prisoner. Locked away,

my thoughts lay between failed organs

that beat their own march.

 

I have found that I am at the disposal of this body

Owned by everyone else, not myself,

I have no control over its tremors and shakes

I make my claim in scratches, pain,

Momentary relief of this cage

 

I have found one part of this body

That I have made mine

Tear Ducts at my disposal.

I use them wisely.