Poems for the Mad

Untitled: iii

-You found an elegant restaurant
-In my small, meek body.
-And you drank my spit
-Like it was the water spouting out itself.
-Except fountains flutter up, and pool, ready, waiting to be drank out of,
-But I tried sealing my lips
-Like a closed off cavern.

-You tried to swallow me whole:
-Mind, body, and soul.
-My heart was served to you on a silver platter.
-I dished it out to you, believing that servitude was equivalent to love.
- You devoured it quickly
-Leaving some pieces on the plate
-So I would have broken fragments to pick up once you were done with me.
-My mind ran in circles.
-It danced around your physique.
-My head raced with thoughts of you
-And me
-One day living in harmony
-So when you asked for it as your second course I didn't hesitate to prepare it.
-You were precise on how you wanted it,
-Like most people order steaks,
-You had a certain way you wanted my mind.
-The recipe called for three cups of submission,
- Two tablespoons of silence,
-A half of a cup of fake smiles,
-And a dash of despair.
-No more than that, or it would be too strongly seasoned for your taste.
-Begrudgingly, I, as your personal chief concocted your meal.
-And again, you ingested your second course.
-The dessert.
-You wanted my body.
-But I was trying to close up shop.
-You told me you were finished
-I gave you your check,
-But you were dissatisfied.
-You wanted the rest of me served to you,
-With a cherry on top.
-You led me to the kitchen,
-And you forced my hands into cooking the rest of myself for you.

-But I refused to serve you the toppings you sought after.
-So you threw the remains,
-The scraps, directly in my face.
-Then you got up without paying your check.