I’ve choked on dreams
Never known
And the joy which sits
Undigested
Inside this cell
Called existence
Where prisoners keep
Eating well

Like happier times
Feeling full
Though hardly blessed
From experience
Through nauseous days
Still repeating
Until poison truths
Get thrown up

When honest knives
Going down
Chew organs whole
Tearing bellies
Having stomachs hold
Heavy metals
By swallowing hurt
We can taste

Still surviving
Trying too hard
By ignoring pain
Nearly constant
Always fearing food
Seeming threatened
As our death ensues
Every meal

But meaningless now
Breaking bread
Or sharing scraps
Purely futile
While God Himself
Appears gluttonous
If enjoying saints
Being starved

Until iron guts
Spill their wills
Now poetic words
Become bile
With abdominal cramps
Almost sacred
Letting ulcers speak
Once again.

• J. Pigno