Written in Goth Lit on a chilly, horrible May day. I was a bit hungry too, can you tell? I sometimes if wonder if things can so bad that they can be confused as good. I would love a pop star to take this poem and use it for a next one-hit wonder. Or for Eurovision perhaps?
You are the marshmallowed filled
chocolate with eggs and bacon
kind of person
And I ask you this, purely without pleading
But how can someone like me;
an apple core, banna-peeled
budget can of fifty-cent beans
a single, moth-infested almond nut
We’re hardly two peas in a pod
If the compatibility test was right, we’d never get past introductions
I’m not a Taurus
And you’re no Scorpio.