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Thoughts Cling -- poetry by Francis Luo

to the sides, nooks and crannies of my mind

like baked pasta burnt onto the side of a pan.

Hungry, I had made a meal out of my mind

and left it baking in the oven for too long.

I think Obsession ate me, scraping at my surface

like a spatula, delving deep within the cheesy

sinews which stick to it clinging. I’m singing.

Can I be obsessed with you, Obsession?

Part of me lies in the belly of the big soft pink

beast, digesting, slowly falling in love with the

stomach juices eating me alive—Stockholm

Syndrome. I love being another’s sustenance.

I love myself insofar as I love the smile

of Obsession licking his lips. Red lips rifting

noodle apart. I love being chewed to pieces.

Does this please you? Does this appease you?

Do I satisfy your needs? My strands twirl

around your fork, looping once, twice;

each noodle nonetheless finite. All my mind

is you. And still the remainder burnt onto the pan



Francis Luo is a student writer from the San Francisco Bay Area. When he is not writing, he is often consuming an eclectic range of music or composing his own.

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