Sadness for breakfast

I had a plate of sadness for breakfast,

I had it with a glass of tears

Early, at six in the morning.

I chewed it throughly

Just like how I was taught in childhood

And swallowed it slowly.

I could hear my stomach protest to this,

The hate and rejection I had for dinner

Late at night was still undigested

In my stomach,

And my early breakfast

Wasn’t taken well.

My stomach growled and protested

And I could sense a sort of

Reverse peristalsis happening inside me.

Suddenly everything I had gulped down

Rushed back to my throat.

And it tasted something like overcooked depression,

Stubborn and rebellious to go down.

I could feel my oesophagus convulsing

Struggling to keep my words in it’s place.

They weren’t coming out nor going in,

So I just had another glass of tears,

Then they all went down

Leaving behind a metallic taste in my mouth

And a stench in my breath,

And then I went to bed

Like nothing happened

Like I was alright.



Β©12/03/19 The Rendezvous Club

All Rights Reserved!


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