Sometimes I wish I were an itch,
An itch that can’t be scratched
So I could bug the ugly thug
To whom you are attached.
Then when you were single
I would steal away your heart
And just like that eternal itch
We’d never be apart.
But eventually you’d hate me
And the scratching I’d inspire
And you’d dump me for some other jerk
Of whom you would soon tire
Then I would swoop back to you,
Your faithful little itch
And maybe this time you won’t dump me?
What do you mean my fetish is niche…
My dream is not too grandiose;
It’s simply to be less verbose.
Though made to feed a bovine calf
We stole you from the mother,
Mixed you with bacteria
And rennet to feed another.
We formed this new more-yellow you
Into a wheel of cheese
To be sliced and melted freely
By whosoever it should please.
Your sacrifice is noted
And has brought the world much joy
And we’ll fight to keep you relevant
In a world obsessed with soy.
For a moment I sat there
With blood on my hands
Smearing life on my white-bread toast
In a room all alone
With inanimate friends
In a halfway house built for a ghost.
My Ferrari was mired
In a 90-hour week
When I needed just 12 to survive
But I’d long since stopped living
For the privilege of being
Among the elite few who can thrive.
The child in the basement
Was calling for daddy
‘Til its fat little throat had gone raw
And yet I was too busy
Helping others to join me
To notice my life had a flaw.
But if I’d payed attention,
Tasted a tomato
Or felt a moth land in my hair,
Just walked outside barefoot
Or put salt in my coffee
I’d realize somehow I still care.
I care about family.
I care about freedom.
I don’t need this bottle and pill.
And maybe that baby
Will say “taste the tomato”
And if I haven’t yet died then I will.
The whale, beached as it may be,
Still dreams of life upon the sea,
So ask not whence your velvet coat
And why ’twas pawned to buy a boat.
Just read my explanation note;
“Your dream. Sincerely, me.”
Slice of lemon in your glass?
That happens all the time,
But have you ever wondered why
It’s not a slice of lime?
The lighter-colored citrus fruits
Are served most frequently
Because climate change and racists.
That’s what half the people see.
The other half are shouting
That the lack of water-limes
Is thanks to the free-market
In these far-from-certain times
And that the pro-lime lobbyists
Will take your guns away
And so in lemon drinks we trust…
In Jesus’ name we pray.