Those Words

word blobs blast out of your mouth each a sickly jello molded to the shape of social unease

an oral reduction simmered down and congealed steaming discomfort at the prospect of empathy trickles into pithy-glazed pablum while dappled assumptions float to the top of the pot as your cheeks blush as your eyes fall

you can sanitize the counter before you leave but you may as well not, it's already clean

tell me the real temperature of the meat not what it feels like

if i can't sniff the aroma of reality or lick sweetness off my spoon just give me codeine-chip cookies on the couch and plop me in front of the fucking food channel

give me crudités straight out of the fridge i've got time to wait for you ripping off the saran wrap don't "utilize" when you mean "use"

proffer a grin, a wink, a raw beat you can sprinkle some emotion it's ok, i have a spice tolerance How the fuck we feeling baby?

don't be sorry, don't feel bad it's not that you oughtn't to have said anything at all I just want to dine on your head and be where you are and chew past this wall