You are a flabby metaphor

You are a flabby metaphor.
I’ve not decided which one you are
You make globules of allegory
Make chewy, chewy verbose gristle.

You’re sticky bits of unsung wit
From some old leftover poetry spit.
Stop the glop stretching upwards and outwards
Waiting for the gentle snap, that dry crack.

All over an unwanted epilogue.
You spouted flouted epilogue.
I really have to castrate you
Snip right off, and flip my mind over.

Let me caress your nimble finger
Your taut digits upon me linger
And push their way inside my skin
Caressing big black sticky similes

Novel idea - to just kick and piss
Over every rhyme, Syntactical kiss
Break my caesura, and penetrate my
Intimation, thrust into it and spit.

Those rigid, snide, and petty hands
Slipping and sliding against my plans
Narrative complexities, linguistic melodies
You bent them, and crunched them up

On yellow shards of disregarded teeth
You’re grabbing me from underneath
You shat all over my perfect metre
My tidy, tacit, trimetric dialectics

Finally, you squeeze your oleaginous probing
Fingers down shirt, and my self-loathing
Adverbs and punctured pronouns
Stroking my hasty proverbial utterances

You squeezed your oleaginous probing fingers over
Your vein popping gristly pulsating supernova
And you extended your metaphor all over mine.
Make it end, make it benign.