Begrudgingly dragging myself to it.
The thing.
Not a person.
A thing.

Looking for the bit I'm supposed to scan with.
The thing.
Not a person.
A thing.

Should I pay or just take it?

Where is the person?
Not a thing.
A person.

Rigid nostrils closing slowly, silently.
Loose jaw supporting the undisciplined tongue,
fighting for neutrality.

So,
this is how she stumbles upon you.

Deviously, neutrally she comes,
never remembering what came before,
marching obediently not knowing the objective.

But you know.

At night it haunts me,
restlessly.

When I wake it won't go,
annoyingly.

But when I need it, it's quiet.

Submitting unto you, O Sausage!
Meaty, fatty you, O Sausage!
My oasis, my breakfast,

My sausage...

Like a half moon on the skin,
Fluently flowing, frosted,
Excitedly variant, uneven,
Yet smooth