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

streamlined

like a car design

aerodynamic bitches

chopped in photoshop

given shadows

highlights, lowlights

posed

 

you never get us off

our eight thousand nerve endings

unstimulated

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 five… oh, 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