Shipshape

This flesh I carry

the rotting package

containing the fibers and tissues

the network of me

the pulsing rushing throbbing

innards of being

all of which I torture and punish

manipulate

expanding, pushing the very envelope of me 

and then struggle to again reduce it

the machinations of keeping it up

perfecting it, whittling it, honing it

the straightening

of so much teeth, bone and hair

lengthening, sculpting

molding the ephemeral vessel

rendering the fat

keeping up the appearance

tip top

shipshape

as the intangible

the nebulous soul

wanders within

the shotgun shack of me

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