I count myself in calories
one, two, twenty, we're a good person today
I resolve, break fast, resolve again
I am so many ways awash in shame

the saturation chokes me, I cannot move
I am overspilling my borders like a hippopotamus
the reality is so heavy, it crushes feather-dreams

but lovely, lovely, lovely bones
spindle-thin, they remain
at grave-sides and on spent plates, they remain
beneath the nebulous blubber, they remain

just a hint of sharp poking
at the elbows and wrists they show themselves
like deus ex machina, they appear
with jingling voodoo tosses, they are cast dice

when everything is gone, the bones will remain
when I have escaped the confines of flesh
when I am made of fire
below, the bones remain

I throw in my lot with the bones