Sugar, salt -
Decadent crystals are the mistresses to the tongue,
Seducing the mouth,
all the while trapped in the slave house of the body.
They take forms of warm and soft, frozen and slick
and in their sanguinity, they partner to become fuel,
insulating, warming the body.
Creating perspiration, spawning inevitable regret.
Drawing the body, the looking glass calls,
singing its poisonous Siren song
Luring it to the whirlpool that is the surely awaiting distended figure
There stands a sickening creature,
one the tides would not accept as bait
unless it can return to the sickly prey it was moments before.
And so this prey must slink away,
Bow down before its Goddess, its Queen
who declares it a “Disgusting fool”,
commands it to “rid yourself of this delicacy you live in,
this fantasy world
And relinquish your happiness.”
Because in order to be perfect,
bliss is not deserved,
not handed out,
not accepted.