Can you hold my bags? (An Original Poem)

And if it sags can you hold the bags?
They're full of mud and suds and hopes and love.
But it's dripping
and running
and gooping
and h u m m i n g
and I can't even see straight because the bees are buzzing.

Can you hold the bags?
Your limbs are too long, too soft, unstrong
When they stretch it's spaghetti and Betty isn't ready.

Don't worry about holding them
It's really no worry
When I go home at night it's not really a hurry
But the bags are heavy
and soft
and wet
with manure and I smell really bad
But I can't shower sooner.
It's too had to worry about bags and bees
but my honey and money feed for wax and fleas.