Warning: This Poem is not Meant to be Read, but Consumed

This poem is about food

and

sex

and

drugs

or:

all the things I would become addicted to if I had time and money

You feed me in French

all this les poisson passion

I’m not biting

cause the last time I was on your hook

I thought I tasted gold

it was just the sour lemons

you were trying to spin me

And I’ve seen the girls you’ve got on your spinning wheel these days

Rapunzel’s blond lock-

ed

in a tower

I bet you look so radiant

climbing

down

her slender back

to basics:

I know she’s spun you

all the good drugs

your bodies bending together on benzos

YOU’RE SO BLESSED

it’s beautiful

how all these girls look like sheets

strung out to dry

Well we haven’t spoken much

these days

so

you should know

I’m so high on how to be a lady

I keep spare

etiquette

in my back pocket

tell all the boys

raise your expectations as high as you want

I’ll surpass them till they are cracks in the motherfucking sidewalk

keep mine low in return

so you can step right on ’em

break a back

to basics

See

all this sex

is subtext

it implies attraction

I remember when we were main

squeezing

the life

out of each other

I’d be making faces at you while you sleep

you couldn’t discern from your snores

cause you were always sleeping so subtle

under covers where we

fornicated 'fore

you passed out from all the drugs

See

all this sex

is science

and you’re just playing with my

chemistry

Well that’s the inevitability of desirability

beauty meets beast

and all my anecdotes become incidental

99 % of my adult life has been lived in a language I don’t speak

tripping on

tongues

like they’re transient

I take all the things you say in one ear

switch the pronouns

and it’s out the other

under

oath

Intimacy is a vow that ends in

til death do us

PRIVATE

part (s)

of me

see

that as God’s go

I translate to the destruction

so I can’t expect this feast to feed much more

than our egos

But

honey

I’m a sucker for the sweet things

saccharine sentiment

guess you could be the sprinkles on my Sunday

dinner

party

dress-

ed

to kill

I guess it makes sense to dine and ditch

before dessert

when

gastronomically speaking

I’m gluttonous

for good loving

and a little

gateau

still

I’d like to keep my head on this matter

LET THEM

boys

EAT CAKE