kitchen sink

gone i say
zombie bread in the toaster
petrified and
dried
eviscerated
tiny pieces of leg and wholewheat flour
burnt to a crisp
a black smell hangs as
my fingertips save nothing
in the smoking air of my kitchen sink
gone i say
moaning inside the trash can
the crumpled wrappers of dark chocolate Snickers bars,
and the strangled remains of eye ball potato chips,
the bony arms and hollow face of an energy drink
curiously as i wash the tangled breakfast dishes
they comfort me
prisoners of war
complete in their demise
while nearby
still sharp garbage disposal blades
on a cemetary hill
spinning a frightening noise
try to suck me down
but i'm heading out the door
a bright forehead and fresh black coffee
inside my favorite mug
gone i say