Sonnet CLXXV

And in the microwave my cancer goes,
the wrapped-up packages of frozen food.
A lack of time destroys my happy mood,
a lack of time creates my wasteful woe.

Day in, day out, my breakfast flurry grows
as time constricts, and chokes me with its noose.
Each morning, sickening, disgusting, crude
I wolf down chemicals and trash that glows.

However, on the weekends, slow and good
the meals are cooked, and time is freer too.
The vegetables and fruits, all bright and clean
delight my tongue as wholesome munchies should.
However, hiding in the depths of fruits
and veggies too – the DNA of bees.