My Baby's gone fishing
I hope he catches himself a treat
For us both to eat
And when he comes back home
I'll make him a meal
Of bread and butter

I sit here waiting for the time to come.
I crave to have your warmth against my skin.
The heat is rising as I look at you with lust in my eyes;
the desire to taste you,
to have your salty golden skin on the tip of my tongue,
as we go deeper, the sweet creamy filling oozing out.
I salivate and swallow.
The warm liquid flowing down smoothly,
resting in my stomach that is churning uncontrollably.
I feel restless as I look at you,
my fists clench as the anticipation grows.
I imagine us together and I let out a soft moan.
Plain and simple yet an experience like no other.
Satisfying my hunger and giving me nothing but pure bliss.
The one thing worth waiting for.

i. hunger
It starts with the want
to fill the hole in my soul
that anxiety has chipped away at
with the only reliable thing
that will make me feel good
food
wonderful, instantly gratifying
food

ii. consume
Chocolates and junk food
or spoonfuls of ice cream
and a brownie
desserts that top off a Sunday brunch
push away the thoughts that say
this is a horrible idea
and feast!

iii. sickness
My stomach begins to churn
my chest gets tight
and I feel like emptying
my stomach
my mind
my life
regret attacks my stomach and mind
karma for the horrible decision
I made
junk food hates me as much as
I care for it

iv. guilt
My stomach is a bloated planet
my thighs its insurmountable mountains
look what you have done?
you fat idiot!
consuming and consuming
soon your body will make you unloveable
I try to empty my stomach
bent over pristine porcelain
sweat dripping down my face
desperately googling for help
to hurt myself

v. aftermath
Three-digit number
I’m too ashamed to speak it
but I feel the numbers
imprint in my mind
with a note
stop eating as much as possible
so guilt follows every meal
every moment spent in front of a mirror
is an inspection
bulging thighs
flabby arms
stomach barely contained
how do you show your face in public?
a binger too afraid to purge
when will you finally feel guilty enough
to take action?
these thoughts stay in my head
until the next binge
then they return again

I love cooking! I love making tasty treats!
Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, oh-so-yummy sweets!
Experimenting with recipes, (cookies are my specialty)
My place in the kitchen keeps this silly girl upbeat
I'm probably happiest providing something to eat

New flavors.. exciting! Ooh, that cake sure looks inviting!
Mind if I pop this in the oven?
Ah, I sure hope it's tasty...
and since I did so well, don't mean to sound hasty, but
C'mere and give this little chef some lovin'!
Ha, I wish!


Narcissistic as it sounds, I sure as hell enjoy
When the people around like the cooking skills I employ
I gotta wonder, if I made something good...
would you praise me? I hope that you would

'Cause, yeah, nothing beats a good meal
but eating alone sure doesn't feel
half as good as eating with you
and reaching across the table to take your hand
then despite my poor manners, I'd like to demand
you shower your chef with sweet little kisses
for all the hard work she's done as the missus

Eh, even if that didn't happen, I'd love to
cook you up something delicious!


To show you my adoration, to show you I care
and of course a part of me would just like to prepare
tasty, tasty dishes for others to savor
But really! I hope you most of all enjoy the flavor....

Tacos, pulled pork and quesadillas
Garish and gaudy being the clarion call
for the food truck battalion
An armoury of captivating aromas
Savoury propaganda mastered.
The war is won.

Tiny little inchworm
Moving right along.
But then came a bird
To rob him of his song.

When I ordered Welsh Rabbit, a rabbit wasn't included.
The restaurant ripped me off, that was what I concluded.
All that I was served was some cheese on toast.
I soon learned that the chef wasn't a nice host.
I wanted a rabbit and that was what I demanded.
He threw me out the door because he said I needed to be reprimanded.
i was upset at that chef so I decided to enter his restaurant again.
When he was through I thought they'd have to call my next of kin.
He burned my **** with his stove and hit my head with a frying pan.
I soon learned that when that chef gets riled, he's a dangerous man.
If you order Welsh Rabbit at his restaurant and ask for a rabbit, he will say no.
And for your own safety you should leave his restaurant peacefully, just let it go.