Immovable Ataxia

Satisfied
I am not
Satiated
I will never be.
An act of
Ataxia.
Plastic body am I.
Can be labeled
manikin, bust puppet
doll, statue, figure
wooden skin
white skin
wax skin
metal skin.
Wish I could be somewhere from here
A place where the conformity speaks clearly of abnormality.
Want to have veins coursing through my
arms
And not rope or string.
What holds together
is the thought
that one day
I will become
Human after all.

Until that day comes

My lips will be painted on
My eyelashes will be stuck
Like caterpillar feet
Like centipede stings.

This body made of
Man-Made parts
Makes proportions
immovable and unrealistic.
Stick thin legs
thighs that will never touch
hands, clean and tapered.
Breasts so symmetrical.

The absence of
hair.

My dream is to be real.
Not Hollywood real
Too much plastic and apathy.
Too much fake and airbrushed beauty.
No, I have never wanted something so much.
I have dreamed of crying
I have dreamed of sighing
I have dreams
dreams that take me farther
than the glass sliding doors
of this dimly lit store.
Just to touch
another
gently.

Feel hot flush against bumpy skin
freckles, age spots, wrinkles
thumb prints, moles, follicles

that would be beautiful.


I am not satisfied
nor will I ever be
until I can actually move my feet
and dance.
Wave my arms to the sky
and fly
out of the building and into another’s fleshy armed embrace.