The microwave clock is a neon green eye Judging the pantry and butter supply I started with crackers, then escalated quick To frozen taquitos on a pretzel stick Now my stomach’s inflating like a bounce-house balloon There’s marinara splattered on the wooden spoon The kitchen is silent, the victory is done And I’m paying the toll for the kingdom I won My blood has turned to thick molasses gravy My eyelids feel like anchors in the navy The insulin is rushing like a tidal wave I dug a doughy hole that is my bedtime grave Down goes the pilot, down goes the plane Sinking in a blizzard of refined white grain! Lying on the linoleum, stuck to the trash Brace for impact, it’s the four AM crash! Oh, the starch is pulling me under the floor I can’t feel my toes, I can’t eat anymore! Regret in my chest and cheese on my sash Down, down, down in the four AM crash! I toasted four bagels, then forgot they were bread So I added pop-tarts and some garlic spread A goblet of chocolate milk down in one gulp Now my internal organs are pure oatmeal pulp My skull’s getting juggled like loose tater tots While the fridge hums a warning of culinary plots I'm horizontal with a fork in my sock Staring in terror at the microwave clock My blood has turned to thick molasses gravy My eyelids feel like anchors in the navy The insulin is rushing like a tidal wave I dug a doughy hole that is my bedtime grave Down goes the pilot, down goes the plane Sinking in a blizzard of refined white grain! Lying on the linoleum, stuck to the trash Brace for impact, it’s the four AM crash! Oh, the starch is pulling me under the floor I can’t feel my toes, I can’t eat anymore! Regret in my chest and cheese on my sash Down, down, down in the four AM crash! Hark! What sodium through yonder pantry breaks? ‘Tis the ghost of six frozen waffles and pancakes! Why did I consume the entire dry crust? From dust I was made, back to ramen and dust! My alarm goes off at seven... That’s three short hours to pray for heaven! Farewell, sweet consciousness, I slip into the dough! (Flatline synth tone) I attempt a commando crawl toward the rug Smelling like synthetic maple syrup and fudge My limbs are filled with concrete, my mouth is dry sand Clutching an empty hot-pocket box in my hand Bed is ten feet away, but it might as well be Mars So I lay down to rest among the granola bars My blood has turned to thick molasses gravy My eyelids feel like anchors in the navy The insulin is rushing like a tidal wave I dug a doughy hole that is my bedtime grave Down goes the pilot, down goes the plane Sinking in a blizzard of refined white grain! Lying on the linoleum, stuck to the trash Brace for impact, it’s the four AM crash! Oh, the starch is pulling me under the floor I can’t feel my toes, I can’t eat anymore! Regret in my chest and cheese on my sash Down, down, down in the four AM crash! Four AM... Floor AM... Carb coma comin’ in hot... Goodnight, crusty skillet. Goodnight, pasta pot. (Drowsy, muffled snoring) I regret everything. (Fade out on low alarm clock ringing)
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