by johannespunkt

Corsets from a young age; if you can breathe you are doing it wrong. Deformed. Knowing what’s to come at age eighteen. Reforming. Your stomach cut up and filled with other people’s organs. Dead street kids’. Rich old men’s. You will wobble. Four lungs. If you can breathe, you’re doing it wrong. How many mule runs do you think you can handle? Four? Five? On the way back you’re thin again, but you can’t show that. So you smuggle down and booze back, side jobs. Flirt just enough with customs. Thinking you can buy yourself out of the corset’s grip.