Im in the restaurant. Apizza, Pasta.
I eat it and greet ya. Steak and lobster. Shrimp and French fries. Dip, and I quench my. Thirst. With this, but first. I must write a verse. About. The route I took to the store. Or. I’m about to be a crook when I leave the door. Dine and ditch. But last second I switch. And Leave a 26 Percent tip. On top. Of the cost. Because it was good and I wanna seem like a boss. A dream to floss in the limelight. It seems I toss this rhyme right. Well it seems that I sit in my chair. Ask my friend to say a prayer. Of grace. Before we face this food so good. Because I could have been born into a different world, like in the woods. A starving deer in a changing environmental habitat. Just being treated by man, worse than a lab rat. And I don’t even get half that. Half Of the rodents placebo. But instead, scratch that, and I’m chilling in the gazebo. Grab a hero. Of the meat and bread. I’m near yo, now I need more meds. Crazy in the head. Klonopin prn. Food tastes so good, now I’m driving back to my neighborhood. Satisfied. I’m glad I dined so fine tonight. Didn’t drink any wine, red or white. No relapse, got it , right? Sometimes my life is privileged , sometimes it is trite. Sometimes I like to grill ■■■■, chicken on a spike. I like. Food.
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