Distaste Poem by GRANT FRASER

I want to taste the taste
of taste and taste again
the tasted bud down in
the mud of my pin holy wow,

pink satin stain -

that you can disfavour
everything I can smell or see,

makes it quite daunting,

considering there is so many,

I will never know,

and death when it comes,

I hope it relishes
and does not waste,

or rinse away, so quickly!

as what I took upon me,

when I tried to sink

my teeth into meaning,

and all the happy,

inconsequential,

dog biscuits of living.