The pain sears through my body,
A white hot flame that is
The work of the Devil.
Yes. It is hunger.
Images of food pass through my eyes
Like as if I near my end.
Is that so far from the truth?
I lust after John F Kennedy, with his
Bold claim- "I am a jelly doughnut."
NO THIS AIN'T CANNIBALISM, FOO'.
Pasta marinera, fish & chips,
These trivial things prickle through my mind
Like guilt for a crime worse than death.
Why, that sandwich across the room,
Nestled safely in the loving hands of another call out to me-
"Eat me" croons the Nutella, "EAT ME."
I can now feel the acid burning my stomach lining.
"FEED ME" coaxes my stomach, as I wonder why in God's name
I'm making conversation with my digestive system.
Suddenly, the girl with the sandwich extends her arm
And says those marvellous words-
"Would you like a piece?"
The Nutella has won. So has my stomach.
I willingly raise my white flag in surrender.
"Yes, thanks. I would like some."