Dinner Friend

Little mystery; nostalgic fable;

Eat brains with me at my table.

May we find ourselves more able

and capable of enjoying each others flesh;

go on and bite me;

I’m fresh.


Taste the baste the maker made.

I can’t say if I favor the flavor of myself

just roll me in flower;

and sugar

baked me in the oven.


Turn me over when you feel I’m about to burn.

I look at your mouth and its all I yearn…


A little more.

little whore…

Take some more;

And never stop speaking with your mouth full!


I like watching your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You choking on my bones gives way to euphoric dread;

When I’m dead pour phosphoric acid all over my head.


Melt the flesh from my face;

dip your finger in my eye

and have a taste!

I wouldn’t want all my hate

to go to waste…








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