Another bite of that pizza slice,
dignity chewed up in wads to swallow.
Seems tasty, but I'm getting fat and tired,
gray hair as stringy as the gooey cheese.
I pluck out pepperoni to stare at ventricles of brain.
The sauce I lick off my fingers with a smack of my lips,
drowning out familiar songs of Viagra commercials.
Sweat drops unhindered
for there's a knock on the door and I do not get up,
I do not get up.
My greasy fingers leave their imprint
on the buttons of my control,
switching the channel down and volume up
on the Lifetime network.
(It's about time something good comes on.)
Bite after bite, I ingest what I cannot taste,
I become what I cannot see: the empty cardboard,
stained, and coupon cut-outs advertise
the burning in my chest. The phone's upon the counter,
but I do not get up. I lay down,
try to plea to the shadows,
belching out what sounds like a moan.
Gender:
Points: 5533
Reviews: 696