Hunger Pangs

Today is dragging slowly by.
The whole week's dragged its feet.
And I sit staring, naught to do,
Sitting, waiting just to eat.

The kitchen table's full, and I -
I like to eat alone.
Don't stare at me; don't watch me eat.
And please, don't take that tone.

I'm not so hungry, come to think.
I'm willing just to wait.
But everyone says, "Come and eat."
And I say, "Keep your eyes on your own plate!"

It's been a while since I've thought
Of things mundane and not.
I think I'll sit and contemplate,
All alone, in just this spot.

I think you're supposed to focus more on meaning than rhyme. My concern is always rythm over most other components of a poem. And I've been feeling Seussian/Wordsworthian recently - for like the last month or so - so rhyme is important.

Oh, and I should probably go eat lunch. You think that contributes to the subject matter?