Never satiated (published in Big Red Cat Issue #2)

Scream

if you need to go faster,

if that's your desire, say

the old adage: the customer

is always right, is king,

and so survey their subjects

with dispassionate eyes, demanding.

I order some nibbles and remain at the bar

with every fibre,

despondently slotting them in like

a 10p machine rigged against us,

until the bowl is clean.

The light dims and kitchen closes

so I settle and slip home.

Never satiated

with another bite,

another course;

a cigarette with the ash

hanging on. Drag

this skinny fry through

that mayo and swallow whole.

I feel like an eclair

slammed in a car door,

dairy on passenger seat, on headrests,

which detach if you were sinking

as weapons with which to smash

through a window and escape.

I keep one to hand now.

The rest is articulated elsewhere, not in words

but senseless consonants clattering in gibberish.

I have no business to settle with you.

The conversation ends, and here you are:

playing chess

as both colours

to win.