Can’t mix, so I’m alone, having desserts;
these days that’s just about all I eat.
I’m in my place on the Upper East Side…
I note east, anagram of eats.

Wretched isolation:
I can’t greet no one.
Wretched isolation.

Even closed up is Disneyland
and unemployed now is many an elf.
I just ate some sweet pie, pecan.
I nearly weigh two of myself.

Wretched isolation:
When my eating’s done…
fetch myself another bun.

I’d love to wake up with a hon astride me
For hours we’d make love, then what we would do:
We’d go into the kitchen, and then we’d slake our thirst
and top it off with chocolate mousse.

I take the tinfoil off the cake I baked,
slather it with lots of whipped cream.
I proceed them to stuff my face full.
This dish is a glutton’s dream.

Splendid satiation
I can’t eat just one.
Ready’s more gustation!