Flawed acts of nature

My feelings lay before me, on a silver plate
I see you taking your chop sticks
Intending to roll them up and digest
But your hands are stuck
Taken aback, forcefully
By a chain made of the fragments of your wits

My soul is poured in a glass
Standing brightly and proudly on your dinner table
Glowing, with the little sparkles in it
Begging to be drank
But your mouth is knit
With filaments of your own flesh

I sit in my bed and
I mourn moments like these

Sometimes I wish
I could vomit all my emotions
In one big jar
And throw it in the deep sea