To the Tuna Can in Front of Me

Dearest tuna can,

Do not whistle your tuna-esque tunes in my ear.
Because if you do,
I swear I'm going to
Snatch the tuna out of you.

Then you will be nothing but a
Sad,
Empty,
Can.

And, just when you think it is all over for you, just when your tunacan singsong voice is beginning to rust into oblivion, just when you are an inch closer to finally reaching intense fucking spiritual enlightenment after pining away for a million tunacan years, and just when you're not afraid of living a meaningless banana-peel life vegetating in my dustbin,

I'm going to recycle your ass.