I dreamt a dream of a dozen leagues
And a meter 'long was he
When I sent it there, where in his care
I oft fly to be free
A week, a month, a minute long
Did it flash before I knew
That I had been where I belong
Since my sweet life was new

POV I: The Girl

"She looks like a mannequin. / As if by law of nature, a stripped woman's body / looks like a mannequin..."

-Aural Heather

I count calories blown and calories spurned.
I run each day and count calories burned.
Each calorie lost is a calorie earned.
To enjoy the hunger- this I have learned.
I keep notes and journals, tallies and logs
about losses and gains, crunches and jogs.
My ass and my arms, my stomach, my thighs:
A few of the parts of me that I despise.
I may eat Mom's cooking, but I purge it away
even if it's all I've tasted today.
Every hour I check to see how much I weigh-
I restrict for a week for each ounce that I gain.
My hip bones are showing, but the fat still hangs on;
it sags from my sides where it doesn't belong.
My obsession is measuring how much is gone.
I starve and I struggle, but always stay strong.

Apathetic apes amassing an amazing amount of Asian apricots aren't allowed annulment allowances.

Bloated bovines bleating beneath burning banners breathlessly breached the border.

Crippled crocodiles carelessly caressing curiously curvaceous candles can't comprehend compassion.

Dawdling dancers dare to drink dirty droughts distilled during democratic demonstrations.

Errant earwigs eavesdrop everywhere, easily evading egomaniacal executioners.

Fugitive fruit flies frequently forgo formal functions.

Gawking gorillas generally glorify gastronomically grandiose garrisons guarding gurus' gardens.