Salmiak

A poem about bitter things and obsession

Salmiak salt,
Black licorice,
Placed on the raw parts of the tongue.

Soft repetition,
Or necrotic compulsions,
A tough walk-away in either direction.

Grape astringents,
Cold palms,
Picking at the gums.

Ayurvedic teas,
Black coffee.

Covered in blisters,
And plunged into the brackish.

Sometimes I wonder if,
I'm just drawn to the bitter sting of things.