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She likes toy soldiers with mustaches
and rolling camels from newspapers
(that way she has something to read when she smokes)

She likes spin the bottle at recycling centers
and starting arguments over produce
(she prefers steamed vegetables, you see)

She adores staycations in someone else's house
and dinner theatre for breakfast
(a little Hamlet and eggs)

She likes every other Tuesday
and clocks with only minute hands
(it's more her speed)

She likes hunting for change in penny arcades
and five & dimes
(but not dollar stores...go figure)

She likes soda crackers (but not soda)
She likes beer nuts (but not beer)
She likes wine cozies (well, you know the rest)
Brumous Jun 7
one drop of fruitless satisfaction
two spoonfuls of unease
three teaspoons of emptiness
four quarts of loose tears

a handful of frustration
pints of jealousy
gallons of heaviness
dozens of loud music,
and a sea of thoughts

but a drop is enough for me to drown
My teeth hurt...
It's painfully sweet.
Brett Jun 5
I remember cooking for two. Last Sunday afternoon,
the stove light hit the fritz. Same bulb I ******* in the night before you called it quits.
By Tuesday, the burner I simmered onions on
had begun to rust away.
Wet metal tears,
as I sacrificed the dish we loved to the microwave.
Round and round it went. Watching, as the plastic peeled and bent;
remember treating you with the same contempt.
Left with soggy slop and goo; starved for love,
I eat my heart out with a spoon.
Love is food we blindly consume.
Lily Audra Jun 3
Come on now,
Look at the buttercups,
So yellow, so yellow!
There's no happier colour than yellow,
It dispenses joy like an ice cream man,
Mr Whippy, Mr Softie, Mr Buttercuppy.
I love the smell of your skin,
Not your perfume, your skin,
Your arms are the sky,
A galaxy map of freckles and I'm going to press my face against them all,
I'm going to burn my nose and then cover it in cream,
Scratch my legs with thorns and brambles  and then cover them in cream,
I'm going to sneeze so much, seeds swelling my eyes,
Jugs of cold squash and sticky fingers and verdant footpaths,
I'm going to cycle with my eyes shut and the sun on my face,
Is there a better word than butter?
Bread and butter and buttercups,
Come on now, look at the buttercups.
Carlo C Gomez May 28
How many steps are in a donut?

How many calories in a mountain?

If only I could climb salad bars

Or scale frozen foods

To the happiness of Candyland

Where the sweetest things

Rise with the sun

Or shoot for the moon
Kassan Jahmal May 28
Home,
is where the good food is.
A good home equals good food.
Shanijua May 25
Food. What is food?
Is it something everyone needs to survive? Is it the thing that takes forever to make and has even less time time to enjoy?
Is it the beautiful plants that grow in the right season that produces so much pride that they deserve an instagram post?
Or is the thing that many people will never have the money to see?
For me, it is the center of everyday. It is the one thing that I know dictates my entire life. It is the one thing I wish I could forget and the one thing I wish I could live without.
It is the thing that forces me to do math, and it is the thing that keeps me from knowing any sort of satisfaction.
It is the thing that makes me wish I were someone else, anyone else.
It is the thing that I spend hours thinking about, measuring, classifying, and the one thing that I can never seem to get correct. It is also the thing that makes me cry at night. It makes me feel alone.
It is the thing that causes me to spend every day working out even when I don't want to, and it has made me be friends with a scale that isn't very friendly.
It is a bully, a cruel "ex" friend that wishes I were never born and it is a fighter that knows how to pack a heavy punch.
For me, it has not been very kind. It has been the thing that controls who I am.
It is THE thing, and sadly, it is everything.
CONTENT WARNING: This is about food/ eating disorders.
Sometimes, life is not very kind. I will get better, I just need time. And a little help.
Laokos May 22
I burn
beautifully in the
fires of
vanity

I got lost
in my reflection
on the
frozen foods
doors

I was
displayed
with all the other
products
on ice:

three fifty-nine
for four
egg rolls

six twenty-nine
for frozen
bread dough

six ninety-nine
for wild
blueberries

and
superimposed
among them
my long mug
doing its best
to fit in

according to my
forehead
I am
three ninety-nine

but if you
ask my solar
plexus
I'm clearly marked
five fifty-nine

however,
my **** is apparently
on clearance
reduced by thirty
percent and
selling for
one dollar and
nineteen cents

and that old lady
at the end of the aisle
is eyeing
my biscuits
and rattling
her coin purse
like she's about to
roll
a yahtzee

my eyes dart
back to
my reflection
on the doors

what did I
come here
for again?
Thomas Mackie May 19
Bitter, sour, barely sweet,
when I was in your tummy,
you craved that acidic fruit,
and even though we've since leaned towards
different suns and
fermented,
it's still my favorite.

Your twisted seed,
what has become of me?

Growing up your love was a grapefruit.
Pulpy, complex cuts, precision with a tiny knife.
It left a sting on my lips,
but it fed me,
and it gave me vitamins and it was
juicy.
This morning as I consume these two halves I think of us.

Duplicate cells, my pink flesh and thick skin and
biting taste, all from you.
Both of us hollowed out and squeezed until we have nothing left to give, but we're still
bright yellow on the outside.
A poem for my mom
AA May 7
You came to stay
from the very first day

And I let you in
Cause with you, I felt peace within

You bring me happiness
when I am buried in sadness

you can make me smile anytime
as if i've made lemonade of life's lime

But my goals you inhibit
Cause you make me addicted

And I'll fight, fight and resist
to let myself taste a little bit

But once again I fail
another one you win

A process I thought I was gonna nail
but this feeling of a sin
is just going up the scale

The perfect mix of good and bad
Is litterally the best thing I've ever had

In this zone, with just you and me
I hope that none else will see

How many tablespoons I ate

Of the most delicious chocolate spread
Funny, dramatic, relateable poem.
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