Belching on the dinner table
his mother’s words rang in his head
“Frank, you’re an embarrassment”
He slurped loudly
attempting to drown his dead mother’s voice
she didn’t understand
nobody did, he cursed
gobbled the luscious strawberries
as fresh as the dew on the trees outside
he was a slave to his tongue
perfidious little thing it was
never satisfied
he licked his lips in disgust and savored
the slight taste of berries
still lingering
his tongue tasted of the worlds
colorful little thing it was
he reached for more that delectable wine
He couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop
He growled and snarled at the world
This was his ‘home’
whole and animalistic