Salt stings the cut on my lip Plastic smells like a tire shop floor Fingers squeak with grease on paper Fridge hum buzzes behind the door Munch it, crunch it, pack it Crystals crack—no way back it Sticky sweet—tongue can’t track it Snack attack, snack attack Fizz climbs my throat like tiny drummers Sour strips snap like glass Cold spoon clangs against the bowl Milk fogs my glasses, white splash Munch it, crunch it, pack it Crystals crack—no way back it Sticky sweet—tongue can’t track it Snack attack, snack attack Sugared thumb sticks to the remote Marshmallow melts in my fist Every sense ringing like cymbals Snack attack, impossible to resist Pickle brine burns the cut on my gum Hot chip dust dyes my nails Every bite’s a marching carnival Snack attack—story it tells Snap, pop, crunch Snack attack Snap, pop, crunch Snap, pop, crunch
