get chicken

what is it you wanted from the shop?
chicken off the shelf, shop-standard
ground mulled chicken
and curry pasta clogging my throat but i manage
washing it down with gravy and more chicken
and i want milk but i don’t have any
no fucking cow juice to ram down my throat
i yearn for more cream, thick as can be
devouring my chicken n’ cream
i  am a ‘dairy’ indulgent individual
with melted cheese oiling my lips
essential grease all over my lips and chin
and i revel in my oiled-slick countenance
gleaming with pride
i want to ooze cheese essence, drinking
blended cheese burgers as my night cap
pockets stuffed with mince beef and my phone
chips wrapped in spaghetti and bacon, deep fried
then i melt a load of cheese on it

while a team of scientists sit behind me
with their clipboards, their lanyards
thermometers and bunsen burners
white coats and numbers, ultimately
and we’re all hard at work
they siphon steaming, viscous sludge from my stomach
they heat some up and freeze some
and conclude that if from some obscure source,
things always ends up tasting at least a bit like chicken


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