I do not want to feed you my experiences.

I do not need your denial as you demand more.

You say you’ll treat me decently with only one more meal,

But I have heard these lies before.

I do not owe you my flesh to measure out and reason; 

To chew into meaningless junk.

My skin is my own and I pray to keep it.

If you are to simply listen,

To feel and understand before asking a bite,

Then perhaps in giving I could find solace, 

In sharing a meal between us. 

But there are many hungry souls

That do not live the same life as I 

Who’ve taken man and woman as the undeniable,

Assumed bodies as their mealy measure,

And wish to test if I may be worthy of autonomy.

But I cannot give a part to every person,

I will not piece out the unknowable depths of my person 

So that you may judge me worthy of my own autonomy. 

No; I am already dying in bite sized pieces 

From things you cannot see.

I will not then take up a knife and pull out more 

To one who has nothing to offer me.