Soured frowns from

the sugared sweets

that mask all other emotions.

We’re cannibals now

and our hands

have multicoloured stains.

We can’t stop chewing

and muscles, that comprise our jaws, are

well-rounded somehow;

snapping back words

that are just foddered, sprinkled thought.

Nausea’s on my bucket list,

though I’ll be damned if I must try it.

I like the plethora of illness

and the rainbow, sugar diet.



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