you are what you write
not what you eat
because every day you find ways to digest me
and still I leave a bad taste behind

you would never choose to be me
but you write of dreams where the hero dies
and all that is left
are the people choking on your lies

you need them to crawl inside you
but your legs cannot spread enough
you want to be what you eat
but I can't let you

this pen you drink

--thinking my creativity flows within

these words you steal

--guessing I am too afraid to stand

here I am

rolled up inside this message in a bottle
throw me among the waves
thinking my lungs will collapse
--you forgot

I am what I eat

and just now
I finished consuming your air
so you are the one who cannot breathe.

12/07/2004