flatbread incognito

It’s never going to end up pretty
Its messy, and disorganized
Its sloppy and slippery
Its constant and it falters
It trips you up
It catches your breath
It fakes you out
It slobbers and chokes
It grabs you by the gullet
It finishes you like a dizzy spin
And
When you come up for air
You miss every last moment
Of it-
You walk for hours trying
To rekindle its pain
And call out for more
For once its felt
You realize you are indeed alive
Then again pretty is in the eye of
The beholder -