What are you hungry for?
What do you eat?
Are you satisfied with seconds of sweet nothings?
Do you love blissful accidents that leave you starved?
Is there a moment when your teeth fall and wonder
why they never sliced, never crushed,
why every morsel was imitation mush?
Why do you eat death's food when your blood still flows?
The thick syrup of your veins; does it love you?
Do slow arteries serve your temple
until it creaks like fracturing stairs?
What moment do you wait for?
What bough do you break?
When the meal arrives will you then be satisfied
when stuffed cupcakes dog your pours?
What meal is worth having that requires no patience;
no work; no love; and a stomach full of sugared grease?
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