Sticky, greedy fingers,
Hand stuck in the honey jar,
Again, for the fifteenth time this week.
So eager to consume regurgitated garbage,
It's not even organic, fifty percent corn syrup.
Blood thick, slowly running through engorged veins,
Fat and ready to pop, like an expectant mother,
Or a piñata, bursting forth with sugary delight.
Blood dripping like icing from the tips of your fingers.
Your tongue readily available to lick it away.
Sticky, greedy fingers,
Lingering in your mouth, teeth full of craters
Fragile like wafers.

-SLuR