Cold Booger on a Paper Plate

What I've so imagined strong
(every single wasted time
I recreate your vengeance wrong
upon my tender red shank prime),

that prime is graded for the rich
to be drunk with red red wine,
but the meat is often bitch
to be stripped and whipped each time.

Let the blood and blue mud flood,
it can't possibly go free,
for the tender bended bud
has habitually red knees.

Red red knees and tender wrists,
bloodied palms and threatened quits
failed to make the martyr lists,
so you make them with your fists.

Done all done diggy done done done,
all have lost and none have won.
Love has been again undone,
love and honor left to none.


about the title: One time this guy had a quote in his sig that read "You think you\'re hot snot on a silver platter, but you\'re really just a cold booger on a paper plate." I always loved that, and since I wrote this poem last night on 2 paper plates, it made me think of it again and I thought it fit nicely.