This morning I had a cockroach
for breakfast.

I make them deep-fried
so the outside is crisp and crunches under
my teeth,
while the center remains a plump,
luscious serving of squashy goodness.

I always eat them whole,
popping their bite-sized,
defenseless bodies into my mouth,
rubbing the tip of my tongue
across their exoskeleton,
teasing my taste buds,
before chomping down into screaming
ecstasy.

One I was told that
the fat of their bodies was filled with
uric acid,
or pee in disguise. I said,
“If so, pee never tasted so sweet.”
I cannot think of anything better
than the satisfaction I get
from consuming and destroying
a critter who once made me shiver.

Being at the top of the food chain,
never felt so good.