He was hot to listen to.
His gaze was hard.
And he spoke real slow
On full re-tard.
He looked away but
Right around and his
Echoes bounced tho’
Not with sound.
Added to the soup he was
A seasoning and his
Taste burned sweet like
The daze ending.
All wanted more so
Pounded we our spoons anda
Thought marched in propelled by
Goons.
Shit was bad. Worst
Meal he never had.
And now it was eat
Or be eaten.
Thank you, friend.
Barry out.
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