A sonnet about being hungry, and it's not very good, because I'm hungry

I bought a Snickers at the grocery store
(The bastards stock them in the checkout lane);
I wolfed it down, and promptly wanted more --
A year of careful eating down the drain.

And now I bloat, distend, balloon, inflate --
At least within the theater of my mind;
I'll ricochet back to my former weight
And leave my slim and perfect self behind.

And where to blame how much I dream I weigh?
What monster plays the supervillain role?
It can't be gluttonacious holiday
(Or -- god forbid -- my lack of self-control).

Not turkey, pie nor stuffing need atone;
I pin the guilt on Mars, and Mars alone.