To Put It Poorly

To put it poorly, You are the taste of chocolate And the pulse of being high Of caffeine running through my lungs Of screaming towards the sky And to put it even poorer, I know a bird who cannot fly A tiny owl, pink toucan, A gray parakeet named Lice To put it worst of all, My veins are reddish, not-so blue Just like the eyes of eight odd faces Or the skies midday hue But to put it stunningly, So beautiful and true, I have a coriander brain, Coral grain and ghastly blue