Fried (an acrostic poem)

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Fast-food restaurant grease ran down his chubby fingers.

Reaching for the cup of bubbly sugar water to wash it down, he took a long swig.

It tasted so so good. He snatched up his burger and took another ferocious bite.

Eventually, the stuffing of his face subsided and he turned back to the problem at hand.

Differential equations had destroyed his brain, but after that carb load, it was time to strike back!

Hot (an acrostic poem)

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He took off his sweaty shirt

Olfactory senses pegged him at a twelve out of ten

The rest of the gym thought he was a fifty

Soul (an acrostic poem)

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Sold that ratty old thing on the black market

Of course they didn’t realize what they were getting

Until they took possession.  Buyers beware.

Leaving my red haired head, cracked halo, and broken black wings one PlayStation 5 richer.