Don't eat that shit, it's full of hydrogen
In really nasty forms you can't pronounce.
Just step back from the counter. Count to ten
And just stay hungry. Every muscled ounce

Is locked and loaded, ready to deploy.
Don't look at me. That's how it has to be.
There is no calm delight, no easy joy.
You have to prep for every ecstasy,

Rehearse for every pleasure. Train yourself
Until you wink without a hint of strain.
It's not as if we do this for our health.
No sacrifice, no life. No pain, no gain.

Don't eat that. That's not good for you at all.
Don't look at me. I haven't got the balls.

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets