starving Toxic_Kisses The wavering smell of cooking food is making me Starving 011218 ... ovenbird It’s hard to remember, now, those days when I waited for words to find their way to my inbox. I would stand in the kitchen, bringing flavourless food to my lips, and tune my ear to the bell that signalled a message. Then I would run, like a dog with a treasured morsel, up the stairs to a quiet place where I could read everything twice, and then again, to ensure there was nothing left to lick from the bottom of the bowl. I was so starved for language then, I chewed what you gave me down to the marrow and picked shards of bone from my teeth. I’m better fed now. But still, there are days when I would eat a poem alive, salivating, unable to wait for its heart to stop beating. 260422 what's it to you? who go blather from