Freedom Brunch

I attended a poetry brunch this weekend and the topic was freedom.

There were two prompts given:

What does freedom taste like?

Sometimes it tastes like cotton candy,
light, sweet, air dissolved in seconds
with no more needs think or question it
because it is ours.

Sometimes it tastes like blood
metallic and sore
left over from stepping into the unknown
with the pressure to preserve that which is mine
and cannot be taken away

What does tyranny taste like?

Vodka chased with a pale phallic cheeto
A home cooked meal missed
Cocaine drip from a $5 bill
Paper and bile aftertaste
from a notebook paper dinner on an empty stomach
Scraped tooth enamel grit from a clenched jaw
Bearing the tolerable intolerable