Overdone romance sonnett

The sweet perfumed smell of baked hell

Under its spell, served with broken teeth on an oyster shell

The cook disgraced, a plate of vomitus pungent paste

Sour love has a bitter taste,  with a roes thorn baste

Curdled aroma, gastronomical coma, acrid taste of dreams

Taste a bug with a bite, fly soup in sight, topped with excreted creams

A spoon with a hole won't empty the bowl of pus that does pour

From a wound where it is spooned out of an draining sore

Putting back the paste would be a waste, eat it every bite

Clean off your plate before it's too late, with your mother don't fight

She'll tell you this stew is good for you, it will help you grow

One more gulp, taste the pulp down your throat it does flow

Overcooked heart a la carte swallowed with jaded drinks

Aroma drunk, can't tell it smells like a skunk, it stinks