Breakfast in Las Vegas

HEY! What's on that piece of toast?
You get it burnt now
Like you 'urned' it
Slick with grease, your warm knife
Slips through lactose fats and avoids curds
Butter is a dream
Yet it has congealed
Into grey and green chunks the color of penicillin
A vein attempt- you blue it.

You're an overcooked egg in a microwave oven
Of slovenly decline, horrific...
*applause*
Cracked wheats holdijng on to a grain of truth
Boil to a roil and we are free to gorge
Empty saucers are your eyes
Flying by, unidentified
Automaton America launches a grenade
At the statue of Libety
She shouts a warning out;
Or [perhaps a threat:
"What? Why haven't you pepople left yet?"