All is quiet but for a blink
When I hold my breath to help me shrink...
Just two slices of buttered bread
Just two...I acknowledge with dread
Two slices...ten mouthfuls? Twelve?
Into the pot of fire I'm forced to delve.
One spoonful of sheer hell
To two mouthfuls of bread
My eyes stream
My lips and face are red
My nose runs
And all the time I ram in the bread.
And panic rises...
The butters melts and cools.
But I rationed like a fool
and here again......
I have half a pot of fire and no bread.
I'm breathing fire with each fresh breath.
And fresh breath hurts.
Now, I have half a pot of fire and no cooling butter.
My mouth is roaring, "It's too hot" I want to mutter.
"Come on" yells the Dragon,
But it's I who snorts fire
Through my mouth and my nose
The tearing flames go.
I go into my mind
Switch off, eat fast
It's like spoonful on spoonful of grated glass
It will take at least an hour for the throbbing pain to pass.
It usually does.
As I choke down the last of my *pot noodle
I notice a dusting of powder on top
I always thought it was out of the pot
But now I am wiser and realise it's not.
YOU PUT PEPPER IN MY FOOD BITCH!
*Pot Noodle...a snack pot that you add water to.