This is a short poem about how a fridge would say thanks if it could.
You take a break from all the sex and ask me questions,
about bread butter and steak.
believe me asshole,
There’s only as much as I can take.
Sitting here like an idiot,
waiting to be fed off,
drunk idiots puking in front of me,
what is this death that you speak of?
They say I’m kind of a saviour,
a thing to be revered and kissed,
Sit here and tell me cunt,
how many times have you aimed a shoe at me and missed?
Sure, I’m loved, cared for, and looked after more than I can say,
I was raised as a pretty compressor,
I’m treated as a motherfucking tray.
And on this note I say with gratitude,
a big thank you to all the vegetables for sharing my pain,
I swear on the name of the Refrigeration Gods,
I will swallow the next motherfucker who sits inside me for hide and seek again.
Signed: Model no – KblR:45543