Tuesday, August 10, 2010

sick



You call my name.

I toss restlessly in my sleep.

I’m sick.

I think it’s a dream.

But you stay in my head through the day


I want to ban you

To remove you.

To turn stone deaf.

To your pleading. To your calling.


But I’m sick.

And I don’t have the strength.

And the brownies in the fridge win again.


picture credit: deviantart.com

7 comments:

Tamanna said...

That is the story of my life too :P

Atrisa said...

Resisting food sex, the best kind there is.

Eveline said...

This is why I only fall in love with food and TV shows (Criminal Minds, baby!).

But it's not very satisfying.

For whatever it's worth, I understand how you feel, and have been there with you. (((HUGS)))

The knife said...

Next time please call me to remove temptations from your life

dattaabhishek said...

That was one hell of a twist!!! Didnt expect that at all... And yeah!!! me being a bong and a foodie loved this poem :)

Pinku said...

lovely....

guess the brownies just have to win...something to do with their genetic coding

ani_aset said...

:D hehe this was super good :D