Jul 16, 2015
Hungry.
The Sun shines like an electrocuted potato, And the clouds are baked Cauliflowers, My thoughts are like squished Tomatoes, Waiting for the weather to become cucumbers, While I lay on my firm Yam-like bed, I wish my room didn’t smell of Garlic, Or something kept poking me like a Jackfruit, But my wishes are like Capsicums- cut and displayed on cheese, simply munched down and never to be seen again, The light outside is dark as an Eggplant’s sleek skin, My thoughts are now tart a biter gourd, And I feel lonely like the last spoiled lemon, Maybe I should go and eat something.
