Slimey, incipidely white

is tripe

I don’t like paddywack

Kidneys smell of piss

Eat them if you like 

But it would be remiss

To serve of them up to me

Oyster are sea salt and snot combined and drowned with horror

I’m not going to write a poem about disgusting things
Just because you want me to
It doesn’t mean I should
Or even could

Now that I’m feeling sick
Want some jellied eels?