Seasoning

Don’t feed me your words raw,
Lest I choke on tasteless promises,
Coat them in the flavours I like,
With spices of endearing lies,
Lay them over the counter,
Spread them out flat,
Press down hard so they sink in,
Mix them with sweet words
So I won’t be bitter,
Don’t let one inch go uncovered,
So I may enjoy the feast of fuckery
You’ve prepared for me,
Served on a broken plate with no forks to give.