I open the fridge
Deciding on a poison to ingest
Sugar or salt
It has come to this
My fresh
Peddler of filth
A siren song
Going for my gut
Which is hard to miss at this point
Hanging out way farther than it should
Annexing my waist
Convincing me
We have still a lot
In stock to burn
Asking me
When was the last time I heard it growl?
But the head aches
Feigning weak
Reaching a treat
That no one deserves at 4am
Waking up
From an unsatisfying dream