22nd March 2014

Sonnet 110

Alas, 'tis true, I starve me here and there,

And make my bod a motley to the view,

Quash cravings, call fat what is most dear,

Make old offences of affections new.

It's mostly true that I look on the truth

Asconce and strangely: But despite above,

These choices don't seem delusions of youth,

There's worse crimes than my  case of self-hate/love,

It's never done, denial has no end,

Mine appetite I never more will grin' de

On forbidden crabs - hunger's my best friend,

Goddess in love, to me I am confined.

    Measure me skinny, better than my best

      Even if it means this meanly shrunk breast.