the ascetic aesthetic: ni vu, ni connu

frail little frowny-stars, self-obsessed behind chocolate bars. curled, crumpled up inside. fetal position, nowhere to hide. your insecurities show through your figure. so afraid of getting bigger. face taped to the instruments of torture. these motherfuckers are making a fortune. the happy medium's not enough. extremes aren't as rough to embrace. look yourself in the face. the mirror's friendlier than the toilet. your life is not a race. don't let their money spoil it.

ineffectual

nobodies strewn across this dead-end street. the wind keeps driving back my feet. so true, so bereft of you. faces grin and moan, but i can do this on my own. i'm still not quite sure what happened. now there's no shelter from that wind. with or without you, i can't live. you've seen how i am, you can't give me what i'm dying for. whispered wisps of beauty got me sighing "whore." who needs sleeping pills when you've got knives? who needs you to leave me behind?