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Microwave Rice

(Dr. Moreau Roanoke)

 
Microwave rice with things in it
It’s what I usually eat.
Now, while I wait to dissipate the heat
This rude description has been let, abandoned,
Analogue to I, feeling stranded,
Which is also riding the crazy train of entropy
To a set of anachronisms, a frightening panoply
That serpentine eating, some loop, uncharacteristic and banal.
Cheap feeling encapsulated in grandiose appearance
A man is only as good as his word,
So you may calculate the state of the self esteem.
 
 
Or the trail that was left to redeem,
Concept of the many whose purpose is adaptable,
Suitable to the needs.
So stop this babble,
Stop and Inspire, it may be the last,
But you don’t hope anymore,
You sit on your empty chair and stair the animated stream,
Knowing, but wanting that it is only a awake dream.
And you never stopped negating that thing you loathe,
Like a personal Dr Moreau Roanoke.
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