Individuality

I don't know how many of you know that I have a little side hobby (it's really not even something I do often enough to call a hobby....) of writing poetry. Here's a little taste for ya :) Enjoy.

Individuality

One chip in the bag
made me throw up
my whole meal. My
fingers were caked
with the residue of it's companions,
proving I'd partaken
many. But that one,
that last one, got me
good. It must have been
angry. Maybe I'd eaten
the chip that had been it's
neighbor slice in the
potato. Maybe they were
friends, or, perhaps, all
small pieces of the same.
I'm not sure how a
sliced potato works itself
out. Is it still one potato?
Maybe it's become many individuals.
I don't know, but that one piece
of potato caught itself on
the walls of my throat
and stayed, and clung,
and stayed, until I brought
It's self...or it's friends..
back up to greet it.
Except, the burger and
veggies came up too. They
might still count as separate.
Or do they now count as
one acidy sloppy whole?