Wrinkly like my grandmother 

all dry, and no sense of humor 

The feeling of a belly button prominent, poking out at the sides

Like small mountains

soft yet wiggly

Pores scattered across the surface

like the skin of an unfortunate soul who is suffering  through acne

The sound of rustling sheets whispers in your ears 

as the orange is being opened for the world to see

Static sound fogs your mind begging you to keep peeling

The smell of wet nickels assaults your nose as it's opened

overwhelming to the point it makes you nauseous of such pungent smell

The smell betrays such taste, bland and moist 

So bland that it makes you want to throw it across the room