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Food, Carbonised

that sizzling
god i wish it could be
more than my poor frenetic senses
guarding the gates
against burned recompense.

it should be me
sliding truth in, from
you coarsen
i hasten by, whistling.

our love as visceral
tenderly mourn
as touch yawns space
this electrode gap
crackles more.

scour my thoughts --
sorely disagree.

- Simon Huggins, 2nd February 2006