Saturday, October 26, 2013

By Bread Alone - Another Mediocre Poem

The sixtieth burp of the hour,
The thirtieth sneeze of the day,
The tenth diarrhea of the week,
The first dehydration of the month.

Grapes never seemed wrathful to me,
Apples not that erudite,
Yet how many carbs of affliction have I brought upon myself?
The drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty,
and their drowsiness has clothed me with nothing but fat.

I am weak in the flesh, and growing weaker.
I am a king of infinite space and an emperor of ice cream.
Do I dare to eat a peach?
If only I could go on eating words.

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