My Vegetable Poem

The form a vegetable makes when walking at night knives put away slicers asleep. no one to hear cry im etching layer and layers of slick pearly paper-white skin closer to him the brown roughness of his skin the way his spots kiss his outside something terrible. i see beauty before he's peeled. and i am just merely a lonely guy. who makes others cry. dark on the inside, but pale on the outside. opposite of my wannabe lover. his brown outsides and his pale white insides. mmm butter me some of THAT! you know, sometimes i watch when hes not in season. and hes got these white erect nubs coming from one side until the knife removes them like it were wrong to express such natural beauty. trying so hard at rubbing his spots off. he's not dirty miss. hes brown and beautiful. and forgive me but now im shedding. layers and layers and now shes crying again. im sorry i cant be someting im not. my scent will cling to your fingers, cling to your knife. so i make you pucker to the sourness of yellow desire to wash those wet spots off from falling down your cheek. only a pucker to help you rid of my scent. so then maybe, just maybe that brown beauty will recognise my love for him. and stop wasting his time on that small fuzzy girl with the cute dimples inside. i mean, how can he not see this bulb i've got over here? with this papery outer skin over this fleshy layered inner core im sweet i tell you! sweet! i'll take away your headache i can cure snakebites honey, i will create new hair growth! sometimes i just wish i was a moon wrapped in brown paper. but he with his brown skin wistfully being skinned down the drain will never see me as anything, but this.