Heavy

I can remember when I could see my whole back in the mirror at once
Now, it's like four backs, with rolls and valleys
There's more acne on my shoulders than on the face of a 14-year-old mathlete

I can remember when only 50% of my body was covered with stretch marks
Now, they cover every saggy inch, some deep and purple and fresh
Others old, shiny and scar-white, branching down my arms and legs

I can remember when climbing a flight of stairs never gave me pause
Now, when I reach the top, I wheeze, bending over to catch my breath
I can feel my pulse racing, thundering in my ears, ragged and irregular

My eyes are the same steely blue, like an ocean after a storm
But now, they are set in deep baggy sacks; familiar eyes
Staring out from a swollen, drooping face with several waggling chins

Some day, I tell myself, I'll become strong and fit, energetic
Running through the spring slush, or a stiff autumn breeze
And I'll be nimble and sexy on the dance floor, a picture of fitness and health

It will happen like magic; one day, I'll wake up and climb on the scale
And it won't bottom out, I will be able to see the numbers around
My elephantine waistline, the pounds having disappeared like smoke in the night

I will look in the mirror and turn, able to see my entire back at once
My abdomen will ripple with statuesque muscles
Then, having sex with my wife won’t feel like a cross-country marathon

But somehow, in this fantasy, I can still eat four strips of bacon with every meal

End

Full Disclosure

Then, my eyeball squeezed out of its socket with a squishy pop and landed on the floor, where it scurried off on what looked like tiny human legs or baby fingers. Before I could grab it, the thing dove into a mouse hole in the wall, where it lives to this day.

And that's why I wear an eye patch and also I'm selling this house for such a bargain.

End

Cassette Tape Blues

We drifted toward eachother in that metaphysical space
The seventh sub-basement beneath the building of our minds
That dark nothing under our conscious reality
And you pulled me in like a supermagnet
Our attraction wasn't merely physical or emotionalmental
It wasn't fate or will's design
We swam through crawl spaces between the places outside space
And holding hands fell through the schisms in reality
Then winked out like a distant lighthouse

We're All Naked Under Our Clothes

TORN SKIN BY LÚA OCAÑA

Confessions of a Fat Foodie

My workplace has free donuts every Friday. Within a year of working here, I will be the fattest person you know.

One of the hardest things about being an adult is making good nutritional choices. But I have no self control. I probably eat just like my 8 year old self would have if given the opportunity. I love food. Especially the unhealthy kind.

Once a week, I will eat a salad, covered with grilled chicken, cheese, croutons, and fatty dressing. Then I will go on a short walk, maybe a block or two, and pat myself on the back. "You're so health conscious." I will say, and that night I will reward myself by eating a whole box of organic peanut butter sandwich cookies.

When I Grow Up

When I grow up I want to be a blues man, a firefighter, and an astronaut. I want to be a reclusive writer and an infamous swordsman. I want to be a race car driver and I want to fight crime. I want to throw the most extravagant soirees on the planet and host the most intimate dinner parties. I want to travel with a lost carnival and see all of the world's wonders. 

I want to be famously transparent to the point of exhibitionism, and I want to be an enigma, ever shrouded in mystery. I want to be a million years old and never age a day. 

I want to have muscles that cut your eyes when you look at them and I want to be on magazine covers. I want to eat anything and everything I desire. 

I want to be a devout husband, a loving father, and a pious saint. I want to run around with all of the prettiest girls and be the most worldly-wise man for miles. 

I never want to die. I want to own a hovercraft and move objects with my mind. I want to stand on the edge of the planet and watch the sun burn out. 

Then I want to sit in the darkness and listen to the stars until I lose my mind and drift off into outer space.

Update: Project 157

I have undertaken a deadly task.
I have committed to writing all 157 within a year of the project's inception.
Which means writing about 5 stories a week!

I think I'm going to die.
G

End.