I am wholly preserved in a whole way of life
Based on profit and making goods lesser than good.
My consumption embalms me. What I eat contains
Every toxin conceived that can flow through the veins.
If I could do without food, I certainly would.
It is not good that eating should cause someone strife.

I’m concerned about shelf life as they are shelf death.
When the spirit decides it should leave its abode,
It should do so because it’s the next thing to do –
Not because one has eaten that which is not new.
Seems with all the preservatives, movement is slowed
To a long, labored crawling until the last breath.

How does nature preserve me? Or does it at all?
I could read product labels ‘til blue in the face.
I could seek diet gurus and shell out much cash
To detox my sick plumbing with colonic splash.
But the body’s own knowledge I should well embrace.
What I give it for nourishment is my own call.