You stir my flesh around,
As if it's written in my recipe.
All my feelings get mixed up,
Into a soup without consistency.
My body bubbles like a stew,
That's simmered for too long.
The heat writhes inside me
All coiled up like a snake.
The lid's starting to vibrate,
The contents running over.
By now I must be ready,
Or else I'm overcooked.

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