Can you taste my thoughts
I wonder if it tastes like buttercream
It slides on my tongue
Loose like air moves its molecules
I wonder if you could feel the consistency
Of my emotions
How raging words fill my soul like the devil
Cooked it for dinner
This buttercream wishes you loved you
As much as you yearn for someone to hold you
But you fight me like a stranger
I’m your enemy laced with black horns
I might as well be spoiled as milk

- Garser T. Dismuke