my freezer is full
of vegetables and meat
i wonder what to eat

the dog eats my heart
i love it now forever
i eat her heart back

I’m triple smoked.
Inundated in a cloud.
Guda, salmon, and a cigarette.
Lay me down. Come be with me.
Something simple. I need warm skin, nothing put in.
It’s slow now. Even with death in my lips, lungs, and mouth. Violation at my fingertips, comfort at your hips.
This cuddle in mist, as sand slips from ancestral vas. Can’t be more tonic. Not even a clean breath from my stacked haze does compare.
Your presence is softer than a compliment, warmer than a gaze fair.
Your hair on my chest or my head on your breast seal a lair.
We swap the feeding hand.
Weakness is a virtue. A face unmasked in rare.
Among a stage smooth, soft skin, slick like ice, warm like loath.
Sticky with sweat, and with a low foggy stench that creeps in your nose. A familiar one, an intimate one.
A vapor that flames when you care.
This addictive fetor to foe.
Of nicotine, sweat, and lewdness.
Is a muse to you and I.
That cigarette set the mood, and you set me in.

bile splatters the wall
dreadful peace fills my veins at once
it’s all going to be okay
the worst of this is tooth decay
i can’t rely on others to know better

how can something so disgusting feel this pure
why does this burn in my throat bring me closer to perfection
tears feel valid only when they’re forced
it all feels so wrong
but i can’t let go of this control
peace can’t stay here anymore

but don’t leave me like everyone else has
i’ve given up on everything
i can’t face the world without you
tears shed just for you to stay
please lie in this filth next to me
don’t flee like the rest
there’s no other way i can cope today

the mirror leaves me unrecognizable
the reflection is a lie
you can’t let this happen
here to destroy me
the progress we’ve made
i can’t become an embarrassment once again
i brought you here to take on some of this grief

lonely times in the bathroom
the tile still feels so cold
warmth you gave feels like daggers in my stomach
like bugs trying to escape
i didn’t eat the food
it’s eating away at me

Summer’s not done
but the oven plinks anyway
and the sizzle of potatoes
in too much fat rattles on
regardless

You need to cook

to think about what tastes good
and shop with tastebuds, textures and time in mind,
challenge your palate
with things you might not like
but just maybe through salt, fat,
sweet and vinegar
you’ll begin a journey with no end

Start with basics:
pick a thing that as a kid you loved
and muck about with it
add stuff, take stuff
reflect on heat
(too high is the trap we all fall in,
or too low, through fear)

Most of all cook, as a ritual
make victuals that force a grin
that draw friends, families and lovers in
and with greasy fingers and chins,
grand sustenance and common guilt,
we’ll smile and rise

How could learning how to let someone love you be so personal
When its like the rain?
Everyone feels it fall
But not everyone feels it the same

Some take no notice and move along
Some hear the rain falling on the roof as a song

Some see the lighting before it strikes
Some hear only thunder
But still others...

Some scurry for cover

And still others
Still there's others that dance

So howl at me wind if you would like
Bend the limbs of the trees that line the streets
Move swiftly as you must
Soft upon my skin
I've been waiting long before
The storm ever began

And I've been dancing ever since
I've been dancing

Wanting to eat
we **** every animal that allows us to approach
until we’ve lost countless opportunities for domestication
and only the creatures that fear us or fight us are left.

The Moriori were a pacifist tribe living in the Chatham Islands
they ate well on abundant sea life until that secret got out
and they came into contact with the violent Māori from Wellington
this initial contact was a 12 year old girl’s flesh hung on posts
yet the Moriori council determined a peaceful approach to the Māori
who proceeded to enslave, ******, and eat the Moriori at will
the last Moriori descendant died in 1933, about 100 years later
Māori descendants make up about 16% of New Zealand’s population.

Wanting to eat
we **** every animal that allows us to approach
until we’ve lost countless opportunities for domestication
and only the creatures that fear us or fight us are left.