Journal of a Spaced-Out Brain

Rotten Apples

I fell in love with apples that rot,
For them, I'd give everything I've got.
Whether their flesh tasted good or not.

There's something about the way they squish,
That makes them my most favorite dish,
For a slimy black mouthful, I wish.

I know they have the stink of a skunk,
I'm not really a fan of their putrid funk,
But I made a vow and I'm no punk.