Shall I Compare Thee? (Sonnet Two Thousand and Forty-Six)

Shall I compare thee to a lump of clay?

Thou art more salty and less clump-full

Hot stoves may burn but harden… nay!

You remain soft and fleshy as bull!

Boogers get stuck in clay's tight body

Your nostrils allow things to fly free

Neither you nor clay is very gaudy

Rather dull and bland you both be

That's eight lines

Could it be enough?

How many times

Must the going get tough?

Hahaha! Just one more!

Fourteen lines!  Oh what a bore….