i don't know why i ate myself so full
of the sandwich that was made especially for me
or why i don't need to eat it all of that i made for myself
i like to spit out food
you know this about me.
when the pizza was made especially for me i ate two pieces
in little chunks and with my hands pulling off little chunks and chewing them.
i like to rub my hands in honey
and then the dirt
i like to put my feet in the river
and then complain and wince
but then again
when nobody expects me to
i'll get in the cold water
with all my clothes on
and stare like a dead fish
at you
and be indignantly complete
but not so fresh of soul