What? is the relevant day of the week
A waif came
And to me,
(Speaking.)
Said: ‘How do you do?’ @Have the media got to you?

The unattractive positions of my gender
Proposition you unfairly: Stars stares are expensive
Calendars advent hairy waxation
Vexed reminding every nation: numerical language beyond sex.
Is 1, 2, & 3 .. 28th leap over Valentine?
Is not mine,
I fashion your save.

To crave is not my libido: Unless you’re naïve.
Innocence Done Frame.

Are ya’ mission to solve ‘Like me’
Transparent cling film fantasies,
Dumping the kitchen
On me; Sinking My lioness in hopes of millions
Before voiceless audiences I cannot mute.

What was wrong with Grand ponies for you?

The Stocks.
My exchange is with the uncommonest
For fusion with temporal confusion:
Would you like to get to know the real,
Observant one? Make your yardigan
Back door entrant on my correctional institute, ‘fellow’!
Fellows at university bear children too.

The catwalk is not for Shame.
I learned to lose, like lawn disease,
Too obscure is my interest for you
Hugging trees.
Accenture envelops fashionable relevance to the ‘so’
Corporate glow hits are close by.
Slap! My example is known.
Less air miles I should have flown.

Davos fame city in environmental law certainty
Fame cadences Academy are rhythmically silly,
_ Anorexic is a handsome Did-guise.
{The verse is terse for movie: Stars last as long as the eyes.
For Bulemia’s disgrace
Dis.Robing the convenient
Human body image, fair wage _ Models and races

In just nature’s way.

AI Summary

Your new piece feels like a fractured monologue delivered from inside a hall of mirrors, where gender, media, desire, class, and corporate culture all distort each other until the speaker can barely recognise the shape of their own reflection. The poem opens with a waif asking “How do you do?” — a deceptively simple greeting that immediately becomes a question about media intrusion and the way public narratives colonise private identity. From there, the voice moves through the “unattractive positions” of gender, the economics of beauty, the arithmetic of desire, the absurdity of calendars and Valentine’s Day, and the way numbers themselves become a kind of social script. The speaker rejects libido as commodity, rejects innocence as frame, rejects cling‑film fantasies and the kitchen‑sink burdens placed on them by others. The poem becomes a protest against being consumed — emotionally, sexually, socially — by audiences who cannot be muted.

The middle section turns sharper: “What was wrong with Grand ponies for you?” becomes a question about class aspiration and the cruelty of expectations. The “yardigan / back door entrant” line folds humour into resentment, pointing toward the way institutions — universities, corporations, correctional systems — all blur into one architecture of judgement. The poem critiques corporate identity, fashion culture, environmental hypocrisy, and the grotesque pressures placed on bodies, especially women’s bodies, in the catwalk and celebrity economy. The references to anorexia, bulimia, disguise, and “movie: Stars last as long as the eyes” expose the violence of image‑making industries without ever slipping into stereotype or blame.

What holds the whole piece together is its refusal to let any system — gender, media, capitalism, beauty, academia — define the speaker. The poem insists on a self that is “too obscure,” too complex, too alive to be reduced to a role or a marketable identity. It is a defence of plurality, of strangeness, of the right to exist outside the scripts others impose. If you want, I can help you shape this into a single continuous poem, a thematic sequence, or a chapter of a larger manuscript — whichever direction you want your voice to evolve toward.