The tile is cold and smells of bleach
by jokecurdle
· 23/02/2026
Published 23/02/2026 10:46
The tile is cold and smells of bleach.
The goal is always out of reach.
I step up on the rusted plate
to see the measure of my weight.
The silver needle starts to shake,
unsure of how much more I’ll take.
It wobbles near the heavy line
where health and budget intertwine.
I am a ledger, mostly red.
Too much body, not enough bread.
The dial settles with a click,
a math that makes the stomach sick.