Image of the Self

I tell myself, "I need to bulk up anyway"
Others: "Yeah, I've been trying to put on a few pounds, so..."
What does it matter when each new tick on the scale
Each stomach roll giggling at me as I crouch over
Furious, typing, scrolling over this window into
A field of infinite vision and delight: me
Deterred by distraction
Mind caught hanging on that last penis
Bouncing off that round ass free-falling down my dash
Riding the waves of those finely sculpted abs

I'll relapse into fewer meals, longer gym-trips
I'll relinquish myself to the gnawing self-loathing of dissatisfied
Overconcerned gays, overconscious homos that consume me
Overreliant on looks, polished pearls, sculpted jaws, defined frame

Staring for hours, almost mindless
The sheer, cold glass of my mind
Meets physical foil
The mirror, really foily in its gleam, barks back hate

"You are not, you are not, you are not good enough!
You can be, so be, why don't you?!"
Maybe positive? No
"You sick, pudgy, mindless fuck!
Eat, slobber, smoke, drink it away!"
No still there
Still eating me the way my body won't eat fat, eat calories
I feed you, body!
Eat them and be done with it

The, the, the slow-revolving collision-scene of self-image
Rubberneck your way to self-indulgence
You've been there, you're there

The saccharine self-loathing of an adolescent mind
Spectacle, no less