personal pizza

i distrust my own hunger.
do i want to be on fire
or do i want you to love me
like a cone of vanilla ice cream.
let this love be buttercup
& pill bug. simple. squished 
between fingers. last night
i put my heart in the microwave
& waited to hear the kernels popping.
to be alone is to be safe 
or so my alarm-self tells me.
i have a basement that no one knows about.
there is a frozen dinner kingdom.
on my personal pizza i put
doll hair & a candle to celebrate
all the birthdays. you hold a knife
& say to me, "stop holding a knife."
i am not holding a knife
so i don't know what to do.
i take off my hands & tell them
to go for help. they become
dumb birds & they just go
& eat the spilled seed instead &
i am left trying to plead 
with a weapon or with you.
once i believed in nectarines. once
i thought you were going to
never pull out the big guns. 
instead, i find the familiar frenzy.
where to hoard my oranges. where i can
stand & eat my personal pizza. 
"you were always selfish," you say
when you discover what i'm doing.
i hold the pizza tight. mine mine.
this little earth is mine. 
you use a can opener to take out
one of my teeth. "this is 
for lying," you say. i cry tomato juice
or blood. lick my fingers clean.
end the night ravenous as ever.