Splayed 

to the lashing

tongue

of indifferent gods

flung in a mercurial 

zephyr salad

last sour sip

regurgitation imminent

once more among

attention's refuse.

My ragged fingernails

scratch at the threshold

of your unscrupulous

Mercy (glory be!). Am I now 

slave to your Pseudo-

charitable whim? Your 

champion 

lost cause? I will jump

your hoops, because you 

Butter me twice over 

within a one-time molten

gaze.

Turn me over 

and scorch 

me

on both 

sides, 

please.