Currently Mix Tape incandescent lightbulbs, and other things that can set you on fire. see related

how i feel about vegetables.

there is very little left to say
you old couch potato;
sit and smile and mostly smoke
in saran wrapped microwave foiling.
artificial butter, it runs through your veins,
but you take more than a sycophantic sip--
it’s all that keeps you alive
and appealing to the corn stalk society.
cigarette holes in lettuce carpeting,
and spilled eggplant, who has a straw?
celery and asparagus do algebra and physics
in an odd fluctuation
between logarithms and temptation,
and someday they will own the local alphabet soup company
where you sit salting your damaged ego with self pity.
what can you do to keep from getting mashed
through your flimsy, calloused cloaking?
the pumpkin and rhubarb keep low-down tragic profiles,
stealing cars and free grandiose delusions
at the local meat market.
the beets are overburdened, choking
on raw, untapered euphemisms.
spinach, aberrant, alone at the lunch table,
how long before we hear about
your suicide in the morning paper?