Insatiable

The first speck of success
has all the flavor in the kitchen,
packed into an appetizer that sends you
reeling down a track of hunger.
Licking crumbs off dinner plates,
you want more and more,
something to gorge on to fill this
canyon that’s crept into you.
They give you crispy gold and green,
medallions and stock to quench these
baby chicks in your gut, their necks wringing
as they glut on every drop that comes their way.
Tumble in fortune and fame
just to roast in your blood ablaze,
just to expire as cinders in your cells.
It all feels insatiable,
to have tasted something so sweet
and so sick, but you cannot quit
as they goad you on.
To have any less
would mean you’re nothing anymore.