The Artist
#1
Each night he dines
on the best we have to offer

Hiding stains, we rug-pull
and doily-dust, best china
(cracked)
warmed by his relentless grill

Lacks salt, please sweat some more –
I will not remember your sauce

He gorges and purges,
ungrateful,
yet we beg for his return

We can bake until we burn
but without his spark
it is only bread


Do with it what you will, it can't fight back Smile
It could be worse
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#2

        < the cookie of my heart >
        
        when the cookie of my heart
                 burns 
          on the baking sheet 
             of your love
        
        will you scrape my bottom
           and eat me anyway?

                 - - -


almost terse
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#3
Next you'll be asking people to lick your spoon.

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#4
"Take, eat, this do in dismemberance of me".
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?

The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
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#5
eew...

if I had any Catholic sensibilities left, that's the end of them Smile
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#6
But you have left out the third person plural!
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#7
If it's plural then it should be third people :p
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