“Con‑Flakes”

They sell us breakfast in boxes,

bright mascots with teeth too white

to have ever chewed regret.

Each flake a sermon:

fortified with iron,

but brittle as promises

signed in disappearing ink.

I pour them anyway,

a cascade of counterfeit crunch,

the milk foaming like applause

for a trick I’ve seen before.

Nutrition panel reads like scripture—

thiamine, riboflavin, niacin—

a trinity of syllables

to sanctify the sugar.

And still, spoon after spoon,

I swallow the fraud,

grinning like an accomplice,

because even a con,

when toasted just right,

can taste like victory.

Comments +

sorenbarrett January 13th, 2026 05:30
Cereal or politics advertising sells us on its need and nutrition with a little sugar it goes down. Corn flakes invented to suppress sexual passion has done little of what it promised but instead a grain hard to digest is our morning staple. A good read my friend

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con-flakes