I am saturated
fat
An exercise in
heart attacks
A motion across the salty
ocean of my luscious lips
with tortilla crisps chipping
away at cactus dips
A trip down your intimate tunnels and byzantine canals
funnels me to an organ most banal
your beat, beating heart
priceless, worthless, priceful, worthful
and I will take my cymbals
and not give you the satisfaction
of hearing them crack, hiss, crash, grunt
Rather, a series of clamps, of heartbreaking
pinches, unnerving, out muscling,
intruding
How rude, I know
but that's food, now go
and eat me again
and again
and a
gain
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