Voices

Defiantly, I stuff the Danish
down my greedy throat:
stifling the incessant voices
that drill into my deepest nerve.

Before I can swallow my guilt and
forget my shame, my cackling chorus returns.
Have I played into their hands?

Does defying them make them stronger?
Does Salad make them weak?
Do they dine on Doughnuts
and starve on Sushi?

Can they be drowned in Water
while they flourish on Wine?
Will giving into their promptings
strip them of the their strength?

The thin girls eat Chocolate,
washing it down with Beer.
They dance all-night
with straw-like legs swaying to the music.

Do they hear the voices?
I'd like to think they do.
After all, once upon a time,
I was one of them and
I heard the voices.