Breakfast Nirvana by Kasse
Dear Co-worker,
Like links, are your fingers,
of little sausages and berliners
are your eyes. Your skin is milky white.
Your lips are delicate strips of bacon,
your tits are eggs bright, facing the sun. I’m craving
some of your muffin top, sex appeal, sits atop
pancake booty with cheeks like apple peels and a dollop
of your luscious forest of beef gravy hair.
Skip the hash browns. Take me down.
Orange juice with pulp is your appeal.
Your body is a breakfast, my favorite meal.
Sincerely,
Your Co-worker
November 2, 2008 at 11:43 pm
Dear Co-Worker,
Mutherfucker: When I tape my name on the Chef Salad in the breakroom it means:
“Don’t ejaculate in this Tupperware.”
November 3, 2008 at 12:07 am
Creamy dreamy
celophane-
lactose, gluten
gimme pain-
put in a bowl let’s get it mixin!
using syrup even on our chicken
cereal imperial
eat in the mornin’-
eggs are tasty and what
chicks are born in-
booty lickin’ tasty
undercook eggs cuz
I’m hasty
so they’re runny
sunny side up
eat some pie up
never too early
I’m a burly early
riser, easy rider
wearing Prada
got some gator shoes
coffee black and
balls are blue
sun is up and your time
ass outta bed and
shoes to shine
boot in yo’ ass
if you don’t gimme a glass
of some OJ okay?
Give it to pulpy
never smooth-
not too preachy
but not uncouth-
its 6:15 so keep it
PG-13
Not too much frontal
its on the back burner
Crackin’ eggs and whips
like my name Ike Turner
Breakfast in the morning
in a piss stained bed
Motel Six
instead of Club Med
Breakfast in the mornin’
open yo’ mouth and put some corn in