Fun house
My bathroom mirror is funhouse
I’m not really that slim
However good I think I look in it
My perceived progress is dashed in a single
Digital photograph
It’s cool though because what I do know is
The size and shape of my insecurity
Can’t cardio that away
Can’t obsessively
To-do list it down
No new age music, or twenty minutes spent
With my eyes darting beneath closed lids
Can erase
The way it’s always been
It’s canon, like.
