Little sprinkles from the depths of the chip bag
its wrinkled mouth yawns
done feeding me like a mother bird
empties morsels from one tummy into another
Desire, lust and craving in a salty package
it stings against open mouth sores
little salt miners pick away
pickaxes of desire not sharp enough to kill
They like to eat, eat, eat
away at our bodies and our minds
their dictator gives anorexic orders
if it wants something eaten right, it'll eat itself
Maybe it needs to think about what it has done
no supper for you, go to your room
it has lots of space to plot inside the brain
space to command the body in its selfish ways
The mind so vain it can't escape Form's seduction
it falls first for the most flashy display
it's high time to disrupt the chain of command
before the chain wraps too tight and chokes Thought to death.
