Tank Poems
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- Parts 14
You may mistake my hunger for thirst, but the truth of the matter is I’m starving. Like I’ve walked this earth my long life and never had a full stomach. And what I have had was tasteless. Like Styrofoam in my mouth. And I just know that what you’re cooking is a five-course, four-star meal. I’m dying over here just waiting to taste it off your lips. Just one taste. And I swear I’ll never have to eat again. But like the glutton I am I will keep coming back for more long after I feel I’m ready to burst. Too much of a good thing is utter nonsense.
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