#creative writing, #poetry

My body will always be

better than her

and worse than them

like the clothes in store windows

that are just so much more

than the ones worn once

wasting away in my closet


This is our disease

our collective noun





spend until your soul is dry

and your hands are always thirsty for the feel of something new



and suddenly yours

owned by the conceptual stamp

sold to you in the pursuit of joy


But with every disease

lies the cure of old

many have glimpsed

in the stillness

between one purchase and the next


The need to be

instead of to buy

to sit in what you have


and content

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