Day Three Hundred and Thirty-Eight.


Today’s theme: women are hungry.

Izzy circle


grind my insides up like you are diamonds
and I am sand and rocks turning to dust

crush my centre into little sparkle splinters
broken glass that sings and shimmers

grind my bones into glitter


Sarah circle


You know what? I don’t want your fucking cronut.
I don’t want your quinoa and massaged kale salad.
I don’t want raw high vegan paleo bliss balls.
I don’t want a banana and a plate of chips.
I want to sink my teeth into your collarbone and feel it break in my jaw.
I want to suck the marrow out of your fingertips.
I want to feel your arm hairs sizzle in your forearm skin crackling.
I want to jam a fork between your ribs and lever out your arteries.
Calories don’t count when it’s true love, baby.



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