words words words

bedtime he reads
becomes embedded below the bookshelf
where gaudy softcentred facades assemble
with orthodontic precision
he devours them plucks their malleable soul
siphons their essence and casts aside
spines creased as used faces
like cherry pips

beside him rumbling
i covet ill have
what hes having
a slice of the pie sometimes
succumbing when my juices are flowing
i sample some
savour it on my tongue
but gag as it sticks in my throat
eyes water brain drowns i am doused
in its slavering tide

what makes me puke
is knowing
this overflowing in bitesize chunks
like nuggets of gentle lamb would be
nourishing sweet morsels without
the bad taste in my mouth
but i cant cut it
so he reads
and it chews me up


21/04/01