The infernal kitchen machine
Cant, nearly… write any…
in an accident
and something only half-boiled.
how was I suppose to even know…
that something can boil
when it’s not even moving.
I’ve had it. This satanic machine
is going back to the scrapyard.
(i cast thee… out of my KITCHEN!)
To be replaced…
by something more real…
a plate with
the warmth of a heart and a flame…
something that still can make some sense
even when the molecules of water
might appear as if they’re all being
so disturbingly still.