She serves frozen Frustration,
In chunks it is forced down his throat.
He feels the bile coming up...
She delivers cold Condescension,
He chokes the course down along with the rising spew...
She feeds as the fire climbs,
scalding his throat,
begging for release...
Yet he stifles the hazardous waste threatening to escape his mouth
and forever ruin their feast.
He continues to eat.
This feast is his best source of nourishment and life...
it has become his favorite reflux.
How could he dare vomit at the table or scoff at the preparation...
Knowing that he himself rarely gives her other ingredients
And has thus hand crafted the recipes of his own sickness.
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