Hunger

I like sesame seeds. They fall off my burger. Then get swept away. I used to have dreams of eating burgers. They are tasty. Waking up. Nothing in my breakfast is any good. You can’t eat maple seeds. They could kill you. Like a ghost could kill you. You think they are tasty. But they will slice you from the inside. I could swallow a small stone. It could be bad. Skipping around inside my brain. Stones can get dirty. Even the smooth ones. That you would never suspect. I like when my food is not going to kill me. I wish that would happen more often. Everything inside me. Is laughing and dancing. I like to sit on the floor, silently. Nothing tastes good anymore. So I’ll eat anything. The people are coming to kill me. Outside the window. A pizza delivery guy. I really don’t think pepperoni is that dangerous. Until the man at the door hisses at me. Pepperoni is usually not so bad. But food from an evil person. Is evil too. Food isn’t good anymore. I sleep on the floor. I could get swept away. If I don’t eat today. The dust bunnies under the bed. Chuckle as they play with the hair on my head. One of the bunnies gives me a carrot. From under the bed, where I least expect it. Then the carrot turns to dust. So instead, I munch on an old pizza crust. Some foods are better than others. I should probably trust my mother. When she hands me a sandwich. It shouldn’t be dangerous. But I’d rather sleep on this rug. And eat a random bug. And maybe sprout some wings to fly out the window. My mom told me “No.” I used to like eating. Now there is nothing.