Weighted

From the heel to the toe
With a feather
But not even slightly.

With a pinprick to my shin,
And then my thigh,
And still nothing.

Under my arms,
no luck.

My body and mind
Looking for the something blunt
That will be my escape

But there’s nothing if there’s not perfect
I’d rather lie here freezing,
Naked,
Immobile,

Than be

Mediocre.