I Hold My Nose and I Taste My Brain

I break off the crown of your mind, then I eat,
Such a treat.

And I taste your breakfast to see how sweet.

Now I have a decision to make.
Or am I fated to live indefinitely in everlasting self-confinement?

I hold my nose and taste my brain.
Finally, I can close my eyes.

Please don’t judge me with these inverted designs on your forehead.
Once your eyes have lingered upon them they dull.

Sometimes you stand and watch me sleep as I walk this endless laying land. If I start to hum something slower and more guttural you even begin to recede.

I pause and we begin.

Death before breakfast.
Some variations of tongues and meats.

Composting the smallest caress, you turn over to me now, that unhinges your glass heart, that causes that simple touch to light up with enchantment, that flows joy over spasms of passion.

Why bring creatures of blood and lust to engrave an infinite numbing melancholy, whose only effect is a feebly reductive pun— saccharine hurt—from her barren sex?

Have you gone?
Baiting until flesh wills to be fed?
Do you now mock my sheer beauty?
Lean my nearness on a knob?

Your sly frown cast upon a sacred bite beneath this sham of centuries.

Me time, they call it in the cities.