Midnight Binge

Photo by Mikael Stenberg on Unsplash

Sometimes
when I’m alone
I listen to the racket
of nightly mites
just going about their business
as gnawing vandals
filling their bellies
with stuccoed walls
while I stare unblinking
in prayer position kneeling
basking in the neon of fridge lights
amidst vapors of cold steam
starting to upwell
like an idling dream
on the back of my silver spoon
still warm in its slopes
with my tongue hauled and slicked
through the unctuous grease
of peanut butter licks
by each spoonful counting
days strung together as life
my hail-drenched teeth rife
with the incident of pain
Is it the hook of disdain
that every pleasure I gain
gets lost in the abstraction
of wanting
just a little bit more…