valentine

the Autocannibalist’s dinner

Tonight I ate my tears.
They tasted salty, the taste hitting my tongue
with a sharpness that felt like
glass. 
They were falling from my eyes
and I had nowhere else to put them but
my mouth.

Tonight I ate my heart.
It was tough, red and rare,
just like a steak.
It was pounding too heavily,
feeling too much at once,
and I had nowhere else to put it but
my mouth. 

Tonight I ate my hand.
I had to maneuver it like a chicken wing,
careful of the bones.
It held too hard, holding too much and
too many,
and I had nowhere else to put it but
my mouth. 

Tonight I ate my leg.
My teeth tore through the skin,
trying to get to the meat underneath.
It stepped too far, beyond boundaries where 
I wasn’t allowed, 
and wouldn’t walk back
so I had nowhere else to put it but
my mouth. 

I will eat and eat and eat
until there is nothing left
simply because there are pieces of me
that will not cooperate with rationality.
There’s nowhere else to put these parts but in
my mouth.