My Subconscious Doesn’t Care About You

there is nothing I can pull from my memory

quicker than the smell of toast

or the crunch of toast

the sound of curved cutlery on crisp bread

turned golden by red hot wire

and melting butter

i can’t yank that feeling of lips curving

that person singing

those bones weighing down hospital beds

so what does it say

of my subconscious

when all it ever really gives a shit about

is toast

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