Sitting lifelessly and cold without a chair to sit upon
Nibbling at a cheese that has sat the likewise nine months and one
It's flavor creeps down my tongue and it sits in my throat heavy as a ton
I choke a little and it sounds like a fat man splashing in a custard bath
His face all jolly staring at me from above and offering a laugh
Beside me sits the space heater that stares and offers to burn
The heat that exhausts from it smells like a fat man eating rotten milk churn
I choke a little from it too and it makes me give forth a gas
Some of the cheese must digested. some dribbled out as it passed
Hitting the floor the cheese churns and rolls slowly toward the door
The fat man picks it up and puts it down his pants then climbs into a drawer
From all the excitement I press my glossy fists into my eyes
Which makes my legs twitch and knocks over the stinky heater and it fries
Sending everything into ashes and phosphorous flames
It all burnt down and my body is gone. on my grave it says here is James.

wicked poem