To Tame the Blue Ox

         To Tame the Blue Ox

Indigo Skye, perfection is a myth

Never imagining that this glorious white light

Hides misfortune within the guise

Of the Holy Thin One.

Tumbling and careening as precious stones create

A mesmerizing kaleidoscope of vivid, sharp-edged horror

Your hunger has become your merciless enemy

But you could never accept any ounce of satiety 

Slim perfection always eludes you--it wins every race.

You are purging pain and self-loathing

Blend into the bits and pieces

The shameful proof of frantic gorging.

If your bathroom walls could speak to you

They'd implore you to stop your downward spiral

Your eyes are a watery red. Stomach muscles convulse

There has to be more than feeding the Porcelain Prince.

               But there isn't.