Sausage Guilt Repose - - - (written for poet - fake reality)

I can feel the smell
I can smell the feel
I can hear the sight
I can see the sound
And despite the ban
I have 4 fat sausages
Sizzling in the pan

My head goes all hazy
My senses go crazy
As I butter the breads
The knife sensually spreads
I go heavy on the butter
I stare in awe and splutter
The bread and butters only foreplay
The sausage sandwich is my forte
The sausage is my only treasure
The sausage is my guilty pleasure
I place the sausage in the bread
And cover with a sauce that’s red
Press down gently with my hand
Going to eat this contraband
Raise the sandwich to my lips
Thinks; ‘I should have made some chips’
Just about to take a bite
There’s a noise and I take fright
I hear the key inside the door
Getting caught now that’s for sure
She spies it with her eagle eye
“You know you’re not allowed to fry”
She takes the sandwich off me
And makes herself a coffee
The sausage plan I had she beats it
Then she sits right down and eats it
Inside, my heart and soul are raging
Sausage guilt is now engaging
As I make my slim fast shake
I mutter “awe for fuck sake”