poem: self-love is a horrible culture

the worst thing in the world is “self-acceptance.”

why do we keep

living if the dull people we are today

are the only future, the only destiny?

I want to one day

be bold and vibrant; I want (more) self-confidence

and discussions of Kant after sex. I want

to weigh 125 pounds.

Why the hell would I condemn myself

to the mediocrity of today,

when I could be better tomorrow?

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