I have too many opinions About spoons To be truly happy On even the average day. Someone lobotomize me, So I can be like them, Choking on miles of soft cock, And calling it ferocious. I mumble around the edges, And fail to fake it Believably. No matter how Stupid I become from bashing My brains against the brick wall Of other people’s incompetence, It’s never stupid enough To lose sight of how badly Unmatched spoons fit into My kitchen drawers and The problems with those Too shallow or too concave. Occasionally, however, I pull My favorite one from the Mess and light up with ridiculous Joy at perfection at last. If only people were like Spoons, and I could Order a new set from Amazon, have it here by Tomorrow morning with Free shipping. Never mind The fuel used to keep me Fucking satisfied.
I like spoons