BlackBox

Black Box

Your gigantic mouth, fed me like the robin feeds her chicks. chewed up regurgitated spit, too easy to swallow, too easy to digest, with you there was. no reason to sing in the spring. no reason to fly south in the winter.

You 're really just black, an upside down head. Your two eyes that speak volumes of sex appeal, violence, greed. I control yow-five button brain with my choosing thumb. You don't have a nose, and maybe that's why you can't taste all that filth in you mouth.

Ben Bailey