The YZA

I love the cheese in your beef
Hot nuggets, the easiest to digest
What’s your number? I’ll give you a call
I wanted the wings hot
Hot wings, medium everything else
Wings to help me fly to a new place
Isn’t that what we agreed to?
There’s nothing wrong with the fat in my nuts
It’s not saturated, but it’s still excoriated
While you snack on my nuts
Sit on my couch
Oblivious to the hundreds of television programs
That are silently playing on the dark screen
All superimposed, all talking at the same damn time
The fat on your arms jiggles
Like potted meat
The skin tags on your neck and chest silently wriggle
Earthworms burrowing out of your skin
Into your neck fat, which reminds me of your back fat
Which reminds me of a hillside cave, a gentle slope
Some soft grass, a teaspoon of sugar, just one chocolate square
Maybe some carrot cake, cheesecake, beancake, queefcake, leekcake
I took a bite, and let out a groan
It was so fucking good!