i slip out of bed
tiptoe to the kitchen
through
midnight house darkness
meatloaf
awaits me
in the fridge
in its own congealed juices
it needs companions
brown bread
mayo and salt
eaten cold
eaten silently
eaten quickly
it settles happily
in the gut
but in that house void of lights
except for charging phones
the loaf delivers
hours of indigestion and
nightmares on chipped, bleeding hooves
until breakfast
——
I really like this one!
Thanks!
Urgh… a very modern and graphic horror story!
Well, it started out as a love story…
As horror so often does… are you tipping me the wink to a metaphor I hadn’t noticed? Hmm…
Wait, you missed the auto erotic cannibalism?
No way! My favourite genre!
I should worked the hairy crack in there.
Is that all I am to you? A hairy crack? Blimey!
That sounds like a band name. Ladies and gentlemen, I present The Hairy Crack!
I like to think of it as the title of a difficult second album.
Ha ha ha š
Wow! I don’t eat red meat anymore, but I would if I could have those kinds of nightmares! Mine are frequent but boring as hell.
Ha ha ha. Most of my dreams are pretty boring. But every now and then I get a weird one.
Love those weird ones!
Yikes! I”m glad I don’t eat meatloaf or midnight snacks. š Although your snack inspired a wonderful, vivid poem.
Ha ha! š