Beaver teeth, pushed forward
by a tongue cracking in crevices.
A forest of fur covers knuckles, backhanded scars,
and freckling moles which emerge from a
desert of translucent skin.
Stomach bulging post-binge;
half-hearted attempts at loss through
diet and exercise.
Each ache increases with
days gone by.
Thinning tissue stretched along
hips and handles labeled as
tiger stripes of a
less than attractive nature.
Sweat saturated palms and feet
destroy the soles of shoes by the pair and
create clammy handshakes.
Seen in all its disgusting “glory” by
a handful as a babe.
There is no need to point out my flaws;
I am woefully aware.
by Erik Shinker