She is a medicine that I must take in small doses.
A prescription that I've hated the taste of since I started it years ago.
I can't stop taking it now, we've gone so far together,
And I don't want to cause any issues.
If I take my medicine more often than usual,
She will give me stomach aches.
I hate the taste of my medicine,
But if I take it every once in a while, it's tolerable, and I don't mind it.
Then I think about the fact that I'm taking medicine,
And my body aches once more.
If I don't take it, I'm full of guilt.
If I do take it, I'm full of pain.
She is a prescription that will pain me forever

And so, around pretty women, one must put their mind on their
hip — and also keep their heart on their mind, for when they think
about those feelings. You can get crushed by a crush, yet it is you
alone who bears the burden of its sting— intuition, should be carried
like a sickness, and should you cough, let it out on the world as a bit
of wisdom.

Cos love ensnares us all, yet we remain oblivious to the means of an
escape from it – until the moment arrives when the sweetness of affection turns sour; a love tainted... when you both become so sick of
each other, that every kiss tastes a bit like *****.


                                            A bitter aftertaste that lingers of regret.

all glances were on me that day
handcuffs on my hands and feet
with a steel mask around my mouth
the judge, juries, and the people of the court look at my direction
not even a single lawyer to defend me but to go against me
they all think I’m sort of a animal
but really I’m just a chef with a picky taste
my work is very special to me
I prefer for my work to only satisfy the appetites
of those who have the same intentions as me
you can find my beautiful projects on the dark web
but if you want a real close you know where to find me
I’m not the type of chef to cook meals for the human digestion
rather for the opposite
my skills are rather useful when it comes to a specific topic
“cannibalism” is what my case file says
but do not think I have a brutal type of persona
I see other people as ingredients ready to be served
with only my words of persuasion of sweet treats for them to devour
one by one I end their suffering and turn them into delicacies
You see I believe the human race that doesn’t believe in my vision
deserve to be ravished by those who have similar tastebuds as mine
if you are curious to research my craft man skills
you can look into my files that the courtroom has provided
or maybe you can talk to my daily customers who prefer my services
the courtroom look at me with disgust
but I don’t mind one bit
the eyes of the aversion is filling up my hunger
but I must hold myself down for now

i smell your scent,
like mangoes
i tasted them,
unripe & sour.
But I like it.

the blood of my mother is sweet.
but the blood of my father is sour.

no wonder i am certain of nothing.
even my blood does not know
how it should taste.

there is a taste of home on the tip of my tongue
that is here but also not
a constant state of sugar-coated longing, bitter-trailed meet-ups, sour-filled goodbyes
something i had tasted my entire life yet might never even had
a sense of belonging, somewhere to be safe
a place where it tastes like bittersweet comfort and everything else

Nibble Her Neck,
and She'll curl up Her Nose.
Massage Her Feet
and She'll curl up Her Toes.
Tickle Her Earlobes
and She'll Moan your Name.
Whisper Her Cow Girl
and She'll ride on your Frame.
Tweak Her Rosebuds
and She'll give out a Moan.
Kiss Her Lips,
and She'll slurp on your Cone.
Bite Her Toes
and She'll wriggle Her Waist.
Trickles of sweet Honey,
is all yours to Taste.

I lick everything

and I still can't make a choice --


what I feel like now.