I ate my imperfections one day

I ate my imperfections one day.

I put them not in an oven,

But my neo cortex

I baked them

Ate them not with a spoon

But new words

A sensation like no other

An explosion on the tongue

What can only be described as

Perfection incinerated

The most glorious feeling

Filled with the depths of pain

They burnt and they scalded

They ran down my throat like a raging volcanic stream

My insides melting, they consumed and took over

Do not bake your imperfections,

Like fire and wood,

One gives birth sustaining new life,

While the new life tries to

Destroy what is keeping it alive.