Radioactive Delicacies

It's like swallowing straight ethanol.

(pouring my heart out to you,

scribbling illegible words of gratitude

when you make a game of bleeding me dry)

.

Or lying down in a field of fire ants.

(because giving you sympathy is just

as wrong in my gut as putting my naked

flesh into a field of problems and pain)

.

But there are no fields and no ants, just fallout.

(it was never about one singular point of

disappointment, but the trend sliding down

of all the people who have gradually failed me)

.

I've gotten sick from radioactive delicacies.

(but i can't figure out who the hell is the one

slipping the poison onto my plate, into my cup,

until the effects wear off and they never do)

.

It's leaden morality, cruel family, monochromatic.

(i want it all to be back the way i dreamt it was,

colorful with dreams and people and ideologies

that wanted to make the world warm and pretty)