What I Got.

I ain't got nothing much
I just keep thinking
All these words, they keep repeating
Over and over and over and over
I'll think about him
Until I get older

I've run out of words to spare
My mind is blacking out
So many thoughts, a blind fantasy
Obsessional confessions over
I'll think about him
Until I get bolder

Twenty Lines of Tired

Lethargy eats my memory up

I'm weary and teary

My thoughts have corrupted

Whilst countries have fallen

I tire of swollen, eyelids

Are down by my chin

Any sleep is a punishable sin

An obsession with slumber

Slow and bleary, my head

Cucumber slices upon my eyes

Waking up, constant dread sets

Inside my dreams I sleep

And nap and creep and kip

Such is the continuing drip feed

Minutes of winks I collect

A scrap-book of sleep

By my bed, I am beat

The crisp clean sheets

My pillow covets the cover

Sleep my jilted lover

Up Your Nose

On you go, Mr. Talented

The ever so won-der-ful, Mr. Tally-Ho!

Will you share with us some glow

A drop of sparkly dust

Just to rub off on us

Or does it just go up your nose?

What-oh!