i wish to mold you into a favored bread
bake you until pleasurable consumption
but only one piece of you.
you are not even to be baked. you are not a you
i will refer to you nevertheless, for we have already given you a name
artificial and natural, like the finest pain au chocolat and the worst stalk of wheat
you are constant
never ending
but always stopping.
help me to understand, why are you in my life?
i find that i can never get enough of you, but am bored with your abundance
all at once
i’ll pluck out your mold and set it aside
but it seems that no matter what side i turn, it is always there
one side of you is made with the finest wheat,
masticated delightfully with a sour grain, extending my existence but draining the soul
another is plagued with the earthy sponginess
but swallowed with pleasure, a short-lived bliss
you curse the newborn, condemning them to your rule
you bless the old, bestowing the kiss of life
tell me how to mold you into what i desire
for you plague and bless my life, no matter what i do
you run from my grasp as i write
so i bid you hello and goodbye
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