we are your pinup girls

dangling as air fresheners

pasted onto walls

come get me, we beg

come get this paper


our earthly shapes

reduced to two dimension

the pathetic magnitude

of your sexual aptitude


we are de picted

bronzed, glittered


like a car design

aerodynamic bitches

chopped in photoshop

given shadows

highlights, lowlights



you never get us off

our eight thousand nerve endings


so we all pretend

make you feel like the king

the king of paper

the king of pictures

the king of pixels

you can always get off

all you need is an image


nevermind that our tangible flesh

consists of discrete units

skin cells with a lifespan of two to four weeks


Don’t you know, we’re all rotting?


that’s why you need fresh meat

fresh young visuals every day

consuming every female that comes your way

that jogger you mentally devoured

on your way to work today

is running to heal her breast cancer


her rotundas were designed to feed her babies

not for your critique

your stack ranking

she’s just a fiveoh, now she’s a ten

means you don’t see underneath

means that you are a zero


you don’t have the authority to view us

you don’t have the right to use these images you steal from us

you are not enlightened enough to deserve us


what if you were pictured on our air fresheners?

nevermind, you would’ve stunk

we would’ve thrown you away with the wrapper


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