What a meal

Yesterday I ate Tuesday
stuffing it down my throat
The hours bit my lips
and striped my gums
with papercuts
I had stomached such food before
but not in such amount
as the heap before me
I had starved Monday
carving a deep pit in my gut
but no fasting could prepare me
for such a meal
I tried a glass of time
to unclog my throat
but in the time 
I found my self
despairing
at the crawling minutes I had to stare
into the eyes of the whale before me
I tried to squeeze my breathing
between my swallows
but when my mouth gaped
I found more crumpled wads
leaning against my tonsils
my brain did most of the chewing
throbbing with force
crying like a lion
my fingers formed cramped claws
around the wood in my hand
driving across my plate
were these scribbles words
or the pattern my heart made
as it battered around my ribcage
food rose to the back of my mouth
my stomach was boiling over
bubbling up
till the last bite I took,
simply sat on my tongue
no where for it to go
the cook came to collect my plate
was it good? they asked
but wads of paper corked my words
I placed down my lead knife
I fear I shall never eat again
for it is Wednesday and I am still quite full
Tasting Tuesday on my tongue