My momma hates fruit
She always said
She’d never take a bite
She’d rather be dead

But since she had medicine
A serotonin pill,
She said she likes the berries
That she always had and will

शब्दांना फोडणी लाऊनी
बनते आयुष्याचं भोजन,
भावनांच्या मसाल्याला
टाकायचं त्यात प्रयोजन.

कधी रागाचा लाल खरडा,
तर कधी आनंदाची खीर,
थोडं मजेदार आंबट लोणचं,
त्यात रुसलेल्या रसगुल्याची भिरभिर.

एक कौतुकाचा लाडू, अन
थोडी लहरी असलेली कोशिंबीर,
त्यात समाधानाच्या भातावर
आमटी बसलेली गंभीर.

भावनांच्या या जेवणाने
भरतं ताट आयुष्याचं,
पण सर्व पदार्थ खाण्याआधी
प्यावं पाणी प्रेमाचं.

guilt and shame
eating to blame
lack of control
lack of tame
the food comes in
the fat puffs out
if only cold turkey
didn’t sound so good right now

Back to the earth
everything organic
yet another course correction

ınk a new line that drips upon a page;
poetry plays a point that letters spell.
when feet are running meter's rhyme and rage
the poet writes of love that's worth the tell.
a statement made of stanzas rings a bell
in ears that crave the rhythm of a verse
rehears'd in dulcet tones that maybe yell
at times when feeling love is but a curse.
volta Velveeta cheese an early hearse
and bathroom book of verses by anon.
musical fruits smell better smelling worse:
if music be the food of loveplay on.
     in octaves, sevenths, sixths, fifths, fourths, and thirds,
     poesy *****-footing plays with words.

They came.
I served their food raw.
One called the smoke “avant-garde.”
Another mistook the fire for wine.

I told my recipe to the onions,
And they cried for me.
My assistant bled her heart out into the batter.
We called it dedication.

They clapped at the concept
  But spat out the taste.
      “Where’s the soul?”
    They asked,
  As I retched mine onto their plate.

I plated everything. I garnished everything.
I sous-vided my own nerves.

The critics asked me:
  “Is this performance or punishment?”
And I said:
  “Yes.”

They begged for dessert.
I gave them a mirror.

No one was full.

One choked.
  One clapped.
    One asked if it was locally sourced.

And just before the flames kissed the napkins goodbye,
Just before the foam turned to ash,
  I leaned in
  And whispered:

“It was halibut, you donkey.”

My body craves it, but my mind doesn't.
Next thing you know, the bite goes down my throat.
"Why are you doing this?"
"You're a disappointment."
"You'll never reach your dreams."
"Why don't you just eat less?"
The devil on my shoulder says.

It's not easy. It's never enough. IM never enough.

"Didn't you just eat? You're eating again? "
"Why don't you eat? You've ate nothing but gum.."
"Hey, you look a little glum are you okay?"
"I miss her so much. I had just talked to her yesterday."