THE VENT HOOD (OF PREMIUM STAINLESS STEEL)

Tue, 08/09/2016 - 18:28 -- hanko

And if my mind is a melting pot

there are within me

boiling thoughts

that bubble and fester

and draw one’s attention

as they flood from my mouth

in a superfluous foam;

liken me to a rabid animal

with bloodshot eyes from the thought

of overthinking

and stirring so fast now

whatever was meant to be

tenderly

(and so lovingly!)

cooked

has now been claimed

by ants

 

I did not wish for my heart

to be edible

and yet I’m being eaten alive

from the inside out—

If I wasn't such a superb cook!

allowing the simmer

to leave the insides

a soft peach pink—

 

I’ve put on a fine show

but the cameras have fallen,

and the boom mic is lifted away—

While no one is watching,

I refer to the recipe

I had scribbled long before

this meal had begun—

 

I am refocused,

and I remember

to turn down the heat

 

H.K.

This poem is about: 
Me

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