Salad

The little worms so faithful
That salad I take in my belly
It�s rather catchy ain�t it?
Lick it clean, this plate, down lower.

This pad of paper feels so unnatural
Like the ink is spreading over the virus
This computer is so satisfying
Like a tit in your mouth.

I�m so hungry
Vegetables don�t make it for me
Maybe I should, no it would be
Shhh too noisy

STELLA!
Oh crack that bottle yes
Hold it still
Maybe he won�t see you

That rock looks soft enough
Paint set for children
My father�s program
Programmed wrong
What a challenge!

Scrub those veggies
Whip them into shape
They�ll need their workout
In my belly

Peanut butter sandwich
Adopted pickle
Soft mustard fish
And a sunny side up egg on you bald head

If you paint that clock again
I�ll have to make love to you
If you sing that song again
I�ll have to make love to you
If you read my poem and smile
I�ll either hate you
Or I�ll have to make love to you

I write my best when I�m red
I write my best when I�m pale
I rest my best when I�m tired
When I�m my best
I am my worst
Because I don�t think about it

Pretty tomato paste
Catch my catchy eating
Take my salad bowl and crack it
Marlon will stab himself with it
And you�ll smile
And prove the daughter wrong

British boys are good.
Like lots of vinegar on a salad
You can�t swallow pure.