Universal Sandwichinator

Lunchmeat of questionable origin and quality approaches my smoothly cut surface
Nothing but the finest Japanese blade for a fine nine grain such as I
Leaving dual plane plateaus for stacking and snacking
Ultimately a place for the cleanest of fingertips to grip
Indenting the soft firmness of my face

A tingle as the thinly sliced slivers touch me
Alerting me to danger
Causing me to totally post-baking ferment out
Swelling complex starchy structures
Splitting the crust of conformity
That once held me to the flame

Ruffled and cheap
The meat falls in a disorderly tainted heap
A poison left for the rodents of the world
Now beneath my notice as I am a size apart
Clasping the form that once cut me to size
Betwixt my squishy thighs
Shocked by the sudden restraint
I get no resistance to assimilation
Sucking down thought and feeling with equal gusto
Feeding an insatiable growth that swells inside

Now growing with no thought to control
Then taking in everything in the surround
Exponentially becoming the biggest thing around
Becoming a brand new recipe of nine grains moons planets and stars

Two slices large enough to thoughtfully encompass the everything
Into a universal sandwich from the galactic deli
A food fit for a god's plate