It is the work of capitalism
And white supremacy
That convinces us our bodies are only good if they are lean
Light
And working
Machines cannot function without the broken backs
And torn muscles of able bodies
And pillaging of different ones
Ladders cannot be built on soft flesh
And hands whose fingers are more adept at caressing and crocheting
Cannot be used to fabricate weapons of mass destruction
Nor break apart the bones of babies
Systems would crumble, sinking into
Your weight
And every inch of forbidden cellulite
If your body was written into the fabric of society
Any differently
Revolution lies in the areas of you
Forced to hide
Never acquiesce to the rapacious needs of this hellhole
Your bones are stronger in the end
