I eat from a white bowl.
I don’t know where the strawberries come from.

Sometimes Mom quietly cuts them for me
at three in the morning,
when she’s getting ready for work
and I’ve stayed up all night, never explaining why.

Sometimes I eat them with Dad
at a Denny’s near the highway,
after spending the day at a gun show.
They’re fresh, getting away from the smoke and noise.

Sometimes I imagine eating strawberries
with my guardian angel
at no set hour, in no particular place,
because I believe that heaven comes
from strawberries in a white bowl.

We were eating diner
a heartfealt family meal
a red aura asceued throughout
enuced my appeal.

He asked what the meal was called.
I looked and the *** as my mom's voice trailed off,
"Um... meat with sauce"
The deep red chile con nopales
todava existe con todas estas reglas sociales

She softened her toung for colonizer mouths
we were eating our food in her own house
Chile colorado that stained her hands
turned to twisted song that sung a sour dance.

The conversation lasted a few seconds
but to me the thought beckoned
Its call Chile Colorado for it's deep red hue,
like the spilled blood of my ancestors
and I wonder; "What would they do?"

I draw my tortilla through the salsa
pero entre mi corazon algo senti falsa.
Why do we lie by our own words
Its almost like we are
scared to be heard.

The sharp english language hurts like a cut
but my creamy soft spanish rolls of my tounge.
Chile is a Nahuatl word
A representation of a blend of my two cultures

Mestiso, a swirling blend
of my Spanish colonizers
and my Native soul
stuck between two world, a sung song like a oriol

My brown tint skin
like the pews of a church or a sad sung hymn,
they do not hide behind a colonized word
so why should I hide the names of a food
of which with love we feed to you.

They cut, crush, cauterize or tie off the eyestalk
of female prawns and shrimp
to stimulate faster reproduction
   usually without anesthesia

I often wonder the complexity of pain felt
when they flail about helplessly
disoriented and dissevered

Do they     rejoice?  

For their life has a gained greater purpose.

Or do they mourn what once was?

For the following generations will be disease-prone and decline
and suffer
and decay.

Nothing we haven't already done to ourselves admittedly.
We might actually be the only organisms
unable to cohabitate with each other.

We seek God to fear our actions
that are preached as sins.
It keeps us good and honest
Yet our empires and civilizations repeatedly fall
generation after generation
as power is granted to our rulers that partake in
Eyestalk Ablation.

For we worship them over God himself.
It's a good thing we were getting tired of God anyways.

Pancakes are fluffy, soft,
Her cuteness reaches the Sky,
Amongst blooming flowers
A beautiful butterfly.

Waffles are firm, Krispy,
And yet tender is his care,
Love can make a castle
And he is a building square!

Waffles and Pancakes:
Soft and Firm. Fluffy against Crispy?
Yet somehow mixing them isn't risky!
They journey together, hand in hand,
Their love unites the land!

I am your Waffle,
You are my Pancake,
And no matter what,
Our love won't ever shake!

Don’t you ever
eat
out of tradition?
Like,
you are not hungry;
but not loaded either.
Your stomach is just
as numb as your heart.

But you still eat,
because food tastes good;
because they sat you down;
because you ought to;
because you’re used to the feeling.

Even when there is no joy
to the taste;
you eat.

Eat,
eat,
eat.

You did it so often
the action
must have lost all its meaning.

Semantic satiation.

my longing,
is never fading,
my heart, it keeps invading,

yet,

it consumes,
and blooms,
a harbinger of doom,

it is not nice,
nor worth the price,
doesn't listen to advice,
this creeping vice,

I'll admit it to be true,
for this is my ode to you,
my nemesis,
companion,
and lover,
...food.

It drips, it teases, it moans my name,
A wicked desire I cannot tame.
Its scent seduces, deep and bold,
Luring me closer, my senses unfold.

Each bite lingers, slow and sweet,
Juicy, tender, pure carnal treat.
My lips embrace, my hunger sighs,
A pleasure so deep, it melts, it glides.

No wipes saves me, let it spill,
The taste, the heat, the aching thrill.
Tongue tracing every sinful trace,
Savoring each indulgent embrace.

And as the final drops dissolve,
A fizzy burst, ecstasy evolves.
A feast so perfect, craving no more,
Surrender to passion, give in, explore.

Choose wisely. Choose Wendy’s.