A poem about a Twix bar I bought at 7-11 on Saturday but can’t find

There is a Twix bar in my car,
At least I think there was, last week,
There is a Twix bar in my car,
Under detritus and receipts?

Is there a Twix bar in your car,
You dirty lazy freak,
I’d bet there’s a Twix bar in your car,
And you can’t wait to fuckin’ eat.

I want the Twix bar in my car,
But it’s not under the seat,
Where the fuck is this Twix bar,
That I so desire to meet.

You’ve got a Twix bar in your car,
And it would taste so sweet,
Why’ve you got that Twix bar,
When you’re not exactly petite.

I’ve got a Twix bar in my car,
So I can eat and eat and eat,
Chocolate running down my face,
Like a muddy pig in heat.

You’ve lost the Twix bar in your car,
And without it you’re incomplete,
A fat man searching longingly,
You must admit defeat.

I’ve lost the Twix bar in my car,
Like some lowlife deadbeat,
I’ll give up on this Twix bar,
And tomorrow, repeat.