jackfruit crisps

the packet, a thai import, opens,

and you take one out,

hold the emperial yellow ,

before me,

i am now paralyzed,

by the anticipation.

I am a sick bastard, and no help.

the jackfruit releases its odor,

sour-sweet, rotten,

nothing like it.

you do not give me the piece,

you do not.

you do not.

you walk around , come closer.

and chew the crisp fruit in my ear,

i hear glass breaking ,

a tower collapsing,

dragged and crushed,

to shards and splinters,

between you molars,

you work slowly,

and i can hear every chrystal shatter,

and my hairs are rising,

alert to the terror,

that is a lobe of deep-fried,

air-dried,

chemically-treated,

cruelly-processed,

mechanically-packed,

mandibularly-chewed,

sonorously-masticated,

tropical fruit.

honestly, I know now ,

that I am insane.

chew on me,

like you do the snack.