18:41 and a lot of spaghetti.

If your fur lined my lap

And I threw meat flesh roses on your

Would you serve me, utilised?

 

And my head, my head, ate

Out of your hands

On the floor

Jelly f**k knees, limbless alive. Finally.

 

And sat in your bed, lover, friend

A drink in  the chest and weathered

head,

Would you tuck me in?

 

Eat me out, eat me in

Envelope my flesh,

goodnight friend.

Author's Note

oh mama, what would you do? things are gettin' tough round here.

Reviews

[Antonio Valentino]

Okay, being a chef, seeing pasketti brought me to this one, looking for another food poem. Yikes, it wasn't ha. I know that poems like any art should be left to the viewer to interpret for themselves, but I'd be more interested in knowing the writers inspiration on this one.

Love the style, and the title is crazy wild!
Antonio

At first I thought it was the owner speaking to the cat.
And then I thought about it being about giving up- bowing down and accepting that someone thinks you're nothing. Or accepting the facts, the harsh reality.