Promises, Promises

 

It was hot and spicy,

tasted so good

as it slid down my throat

and filled my stomach

with that creamy flaming ecstasy,

couldn’t stop asking for more,

my heart became so ravenous

for just another tasty morsel

of this ambrosia that was so divine.

 

Have to lament

over how it turned into an addiction,

until I could prevent my desires

from ruling my life,

ever stalking that location

just to get another fix

of that amazing, succulent dream.

 

At least it started out so favorable,

thought it would always last,

but it turned out to only make me sick,

then I learned to stop trusting

any politician as a cook

since their promise chili

will always backfire eventually.

 

And one thing I don’t need

is another pain in the behind

from some big lying fart

who ends up polluting the air

with another lie that just plain stinks.