Sometimes, the blender in your head
Is so stuffed with ideas
That the fantastic smoothie you were going to make
Ends up as a lab-rat milkshake. And this
You take to the table
And present it to your family as
Your latest and greatest cooking creation.

And they, having been blind for years
Eat without thinking
Enjoying this owl-pellet meal
Between grinding small skulls,
Marrow like taffy in their teeth,
And oh— I found the heart,
Grinning at the back of your throat
Like the flyleaf of a book; so happy
That you dedicated it to them
That they fail to notice it is all blank.
And they eat away,
While you watch, sickened, as Mommy dearest
Lifts the fork to her plump, caterpillar lips
And slurps the noodle of Mr. Jingles' tail,
Smiling at you,
"Such a delectable meal, darling,
What's for desert?"

Thankfull, you didn't get far enough
In your miserable blunderings to plan dessert.
So they all troop to bed
Like many lame lab-experiments,
While you sit at the table, glad
That you had eaten something beforehand.

And this, this is what happens
When you itch to move
And can't decide which finger goes first;
When your conversation stalls,
But, in your mind,
You're three pages ahead and not slowing,
Not stopping, all a whirlwind in the faces
Of those around you. So how is it,
That when they are left in the dust,
When they ate the salad of rodents
That you end up with the indigestion?


A/N: This has a different flavor than my other poems. I am contemplating presenting it at a poetry slam.