yield for no one
no gods or monsters
grapple and twist free
from sandpaper grip
absorb them into supple folds
your rosy cherub cheeks
snuff the candles and yank the banquet sheet
it began crisp and clean and sharp
yet the gift wrap has become redundant
it withers like the gremlin that cowers at your feet
burying its head with shame
afraid of your rage
your insatiable hunger
your lust your drive
to eat to fuck
to prove you’re still alive
bathe in the spray
of the porcelain bust
bursting like neon melon
dark dinner party rules
have been thrown out with the plates
we cannot eat upon a pile of shards
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