time has melted into molasses and i
am lost in the meaninglessness
of artificial
pleasure.
every truth scrapes
my stomach like shards
of glass
in the mirror i broke
denying myself.
identity is what you
call it, what you see,
what you allow
yourself
to be.
someone told me if you
drink too much honey all
at once
you die, it clogs your throat
and you choke because air
can't get through
all the honey.
i wonder if the same is true
for molasses.
time has melted and i
hold the flame, this spoonful
of molasses
sits on my tongue
until
i forget
my name.