the gospel of the lamb, live from the slaughterhouse
the early days of murder and savagery
confined and veiled,
the pain filling the walls,
heavy and soft, childlike.
(a rose glow, a silver glint)
she is a child, she is light.
(a white mist,a blur)
too late, too loud for her decry.
the knife to her throat,
skinning her strip by strip.
slowly, precisely, but all at once.
her wisdom, limited, but existent, will disintegrate with her brain matter,
all that is her ruthlessly ripped from existence.
i should have lived when i had the chance, she thinks, her stomach a well for her tears.
she is sinking.
the guillotine is lowering, but she sinks farther.
the lamb cries,
the well is full.
the lamb gurgles,
but does not notice.
the lamb cries for herself, because nobody else will.
i am a light and i am no i m i am iam iam i am iam i
stupid fucking lamb, you waited too long to live, and now you are dead.
nothing’s quite filled the hole in my soul
like sitting out on our blankets in the warm, damp grass.
talking and laughing and lying on our stomachs and through our teeth.
the simple magic of adolescence.
i need to find inhabitable softness again.
the bliss of simplicity but the deafening crackling
of relational electricity.
the teenage girl’s adoration and idolization of a smaller body is multifaceted,
not simply a craving for physical ‘perfection’.
the grieving of youth
the sudden attention on you as you are transforming
uncomfortable alone, and now you are forced into a spotlight?
the smaller your body the less people can see you.
men will not leer and women will not sneer
and you can be comfortable in a shadow. behind.
you are the shadow of your present self.
your body is no longer your own.
it is the future of the population’s.
it is unfamiliar to the one person who has been with it constantly.
we are not comfortable with showing weakness.
it’s how we survive.
so we hide,
and how do we hide?
we hide in silence and in smallness.
our brains are not yet evolved enough to conceptualize our pain,
it is isolating and devastating but we must cover it.
we need control over something; nothing is ours.
physical appearance can be visibly altered by our actions,
we do not eat or we overeat or we overexercise or we rot.
we just want to be small.
we want to be little.