She Wore Pineapple Rings For Glasses

She wore pineapple rings for glasses and walked like jelly dances I didn't rate her chances She used to wee standing up she cooked lemon a'la duck won the lottery, grumbled what bad luck like a surgical nip, without the tuck. She'd blow cream cheese when she sneezed and eat ram dressed as lamb for sunday roast she ate toast with mushrooms for toes, little buttons in a row smoked salmon for a nose, smelt fishy when she blows She wore a chicken-winger-as-a-ring-around-'er-finger that became a stinker, boy did it linger thanks to x-factor, she wants to be a popsinger but she's a bloody minger. She cares not much for clothes revealing skin and bones much to establishments moans and 'righteous' idiots groans little boys stand and stare french fries for pubic hair thats not meant to be there she makes a mess everywhere. She's got a chopping board, where a leg should be might be why she walks all wibbly wobbly wears a saucepan for a boot, metallic clomping of her foot for make up she uses butter cheeks glow as eyelids flutter she's well dressed like a salad marinated in love ballads a lemon glazed mallard. She's like dessert before a starter the rip off and the barter she drips morsels like a leper smells like fresh ground pepper her blood doesn't flow much like batter pure cholesterol but gets no fatter she looks like beef but tastes of bacon bleach white teeth with an accent like jamaican. She makes a meal of everything wearing rabbits paws and prawns for bling. holding her hand feels like wriggling jellied eels whiskers longer than the oldest seals. She wore a banana as a brooch didn't wash more like poach she really is hamfisted, skin like crackling all blistered. She's not a 5 a day, unless it's take away. She's drunk too much grain, pickle damaged brain downright bonkers on the left side of sane. She slept alone upon a bed of stilton in a suite at the glitzy ritzy hilton upset, the tears she did cry weeping raspberry sorbet from her eye from the orbs within her pocket hairstyled by electric socket a crazy look, but I wouldn't knock it for she lives her life free as the wind, though she smells like brie that should be binned or tuna from a damaged tin. She's a genetically modified vegetable at a completely organic table She cuts clothes off only to keep the label. In this crazy ole world, shes still a backwards girl enough to make even hardened stomachs hurl Pretty tasty date, give her a whirl? ©John-Ovan.p.hull