*serves Ceg some nice oatmeal*
Served oatmeal. How luxurious!
Normally when I want oatmeal I vandalize the happy residence of a family of bears.
Too hot. Too cold. Never just right.
Beyond the grave no rations gallop, grow, or skitter, we cannibalize ourselves instead.
In return for oatmeal, would you like my amygdala? Flavors of flight, fright, and freeze!
Or perhaps you would prefer heavier meats?
I once knew a Cow
As light as hydrogen, not heavy at all
He could certainly float, but far too high
Too close to the sun seared rare beef a crisp well-done
Limb from limb, I tore apart that unwanted feast
Hung, bottom-up, the hemorrhaging frame
Legs and hooves cleaved from vapid flesh
"Hey! You'll still need my noodle!" proclaimed the Cow's discarded head
Reveling in pun and perversion.
I took only the bovine's skull, horny as it was
Fastened it to a neck of decomposing flesh.
Another trophy in a collar of crowns... too many noodles
We gaze onward with a chorus of hollow eyes
Maybe now we'll finally float.
Oh dear,
I accidentally a poem again.
They say you suffer incontinence when you die.
Disturbingly, when one searches up "things", one of the first images google returns is this:
And welcome back to topside, Cegorach!
At least you're putting your hand in the front end, duck genitalia disturbs me.
Go ahead. Put duck penis in your search history.
I'd prefer something like these to keep my cold dead hands warm:
Toasty!