Seven Out of Nine

Maybe if I shoved my fingers down my throat, starved myself into the ship's infirmary, photoshopped my face to a matt effect, associated with CGI creatures, wore spandex suits with silver occular vision implants and died my hair that oh-so-desired blonde, came back to you from light years away. Maybe then I would be that alien object that you desire in testosterone topped grunting conventions. Maybe. *The title is based on a character from star trek: Seven of Nine, as is the poem