A short love poem
"Amore" is an Italian word
That means "I love you,"
"Goulash" is a Hungarian word
That means tasty beef stew.
I'm sorry. Please ignore the last two lines -- they really have nothing to do with love. You see, I haven't eaten all day and I'm a bit famished. I'm afraid the ol' stomach is getting in the way of the creative mind. Oh well, it's nothing that a good poet can't fight through. So, let's give this love poem another go, shall we?
Your eyes are so fair and blue,
Your lips are so red and true,
Your thighs are sinewy,
I would love to eat them.
Blaspheme! Why can't I stop thinking about food? I ruined a perfectly good stanza with talk of cannibalism. I'm sorry, this won't happen again, I promise you. OK, let's try this one more time:
I want burrito now,
Egad! What the hell was that?! That wasn't even a coherent thought, let alone a line of romantic poetry. I'm losing it. I must eat soon. Somebody help me. No, must hold on. Must finish poem first. Give me one more chance. You won't be disappointed.
Dammit to hell! I've lost it! Somebody, for the love of God, get me something to eat! I'm going crazy! You hear me? Crazy! Hey, maybe I'll eat my arm. Yeah, that sounds good. It's plump and meaty. I'm sure it will make a fine meal. Yes, I'll eat my arm, and then I'll eat my torso for dessert! Ha! Ha! I'm saved! Saved! Thank you, God! Thank you!