A tribute to the expired

A Tribute to the Expired

Oh egg oh egg you scream to me
with a expiration date in nineteen ninety-three
You reek of feet and rotten yolk
your existence must be some kind of joke
ranch dip with odd flecks of black
I'll avoid you for my midnight snack
I think I saw the salami move
Like a inch worm creating a grove
Milk that bubbles
That alone causes me troubles
The olives are eyes
and there covered in flies
The ketchup is like blood
The mustards dried mud
Moldy bread in the back
some rancid object in a sack
The cabbages just might revolt
I think the frige door I will bolt
This isn't within my culinary skill
and by no force of will
(I don't mean to be rude)
I can not make a meal of this food
I can suggest a exorcist
But the Spanish rice might resist