Mozzarella Cheese Sticks.
Forever me, dear gym-father; for I have sinned.
It’s been quite some time since my last digestion.
I have been distrustful, for I have given into temptation.
As I went for my morning run, jogging and doing backflips in the middle of empty streets as though cinematic visuals from the movie Rocky.
I smelt a great desire, invoking in me a feeling that I have longed desired.
My nose served as the compass, for my soul would encompass.
The gooey cheesy goodness of deep-fried Mozzarella sticks.
Master, I was warned; as though the chef could see through my body as it was dripping with sweat, he offered a humbling glass of water.
I’m sure he spiked it because suddenly a rush would rumble through my gut, wretched the skull; raising my awareness to a higher level of cheesy sensations.
Tingling every ounce of my body, except for the sexual parts.
Arousal was felt every part, except for the sexual parts; seriously, I don’t have a fetish for food.
I asked, the merchant — what it would cost to sell my soul to the devilish tricks of those crispy shells.
Thou I was warned, several times as such.
“You look like you work out, don’t do this to yourself”
I embraced him, and kissed him for his interest in my wellbeing; no homo.
“But dear Mozzarella chef, I must pay you back — and I shall do so by consuming every serving of those deep-fried goodness you can present.”
One after another, as he fed me with a sympathetic look in his eyes.
The satisfaction it brought me as the cheese melted like the warm embrace of freshly chapped lips making out with me, except these ones were more delicious and chewy.
Bite after Bite, even a German man was questioning my sanity — as he said to me “Bitte, Bitte…”, I confess it was lost in translation; only later did I discover from Google Translate he meant “Please, Stop”.
I honestly thought he said, “Eat, you fuck”.
Anyways, as I fall to my knees with this body that has consumed enough cheese to fulfil the Pizza tower; I shall seek forgiveness.
Forgive me thy merciful lord of gastroenterologist gastronomy gynaecology (Apologies, I had to google how to spell that); for I have sinned.
I have sinned, and though I shall seek penance and must repent.
I beg you to stop this suffering that I endure; as you well know I’m broke and can’t afford more toilet paper.
I shall stick to Kale and even date a Vegan to make up for my sins.
Have Mercy on my soul…
…And my stomach.