Kate P.

United States

Bland People

April 27, 2021

I bit into celery
peanut butter memories stuck in my throat
ants on a log at mosquito camp
dried up raisins, in the sun too long.
78% water
forgotten, boring, so bendable, breakable
tastes like split nails on a soiled chalkboard
filled with one syllable vocabulary words.
Yet The desperate put us in hot beef flesh
Their soups, Their stirring pot of plans
or on cold plates, beheaded, disgusting
Stringy, we struggle down Their dry throats 
Useful, defeated.
Nobody comes to lick our wounds
our blood is not aesthetic, royal iron ruby
it is just beef flesh and water.

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