Get your ingredients and lay them out
Organize them on the table, just so you know
You know everything is where it should be
Begin to knead the dough.
Feel it stretch beneath your fingers.
Webs of flour form and are crushed beneath each handprint as you work.
Fold the cracks deeper and deeper
Hide them in the sable dough and they will sit, full of air, until the oven cracks them open and spills out their contents
Hide the cracks, this is normal
Crush 200mg into a fine powder.
Mix the dry with the dry, the wet with the wet.
This is what your mother taught you. Hands gripping the whisk over your much smaller one
Inquisitive, you asked, why make them separate?
So they don’t fall apart, she responds
You’ll ask this question again and again, why?
You’ll learn now, mother will always respond, until she doesn’t
Mix the dry with the dry and keep your grip tight
Mother isn’t here to hold the whisk for you anymore
Let it sit. Talk to it. Be concerned, but keep cool. Blow on it as needed.
It’s its first time being left out to sit too
Don’t think about all the things it isn’t yet
When you sit in a flimsy plastic chair, still wearing your apron, don’t let your hands shake
Be happy, be glad the doctors care about you at all
Shaky as hell, hold that pen like your chopping kinife
And cut, cut, cut down into the clipboard because it’s one step closer to the sweet truth you need
450 degrees and god, you’re burning up
The receptionist goes to get you a damp cloth
Press pills into its giving, brown crust until it lets you in
Rip the dough, distend it around the filling
Sprinkle with 15 mg of superficial shavings from the bottom of the bottle
Add bright colors, your favorite
It doesn’t matter how you do it, just do it
Everyone else put sprinkles on theirs
Remind them how you used to be
The taste test, just for the master chef.
God, you’ve been waiting years for this
A watched pot never boils, so you’ve waited patiently
Living just around the corner from the kitchen
But patience is thin these days and you can’t wait anymore.
The letter from the doctors finally comes.
Stop shaking your hands, you’ll drop the food.
Open the paper now, read those magic words
Those precious little A’s—
Asymptomatic at time of visit
That will need to go in the oven, too
You take a small bite, all you can bear to give yourself
Acidic, on the back of your throat
God, you ruined it again. Too long in the oven.
But they’re waiting at the table.
Guests all brought something of their own
And you don’t know what they expect from you
But there’s no time to fix you now, dinner’s ready
Like it or not, this recipe is all you have
This recipe that’s lead you down the darkest of rabbit holes, that’s taken you to corners of the internet you never knew, that’s locked away the sun, that’s turned every bit of sweet into sour, the recipe that made you a chef but never taught you how to cook.
Follow me, it says, and it almost sounds like your mother. You’ll learn now.
turnnoffyourmind
janainaart
stormborns
origamiaround
ellievsbear
germansingergirl
baratheonpilled
prguitarman
