It's nice to be spoken to twice a day with the chosen few
sewn up wounds, hoping they'd open soon.
Closed for business, open stitches, clone the biscuits, openly chauvinistic.
Wow, thicker than my eyebrow.
Stumped, mixed up in the gravy lumps.
Capsule crash landed with a thump somewhere between the candy floss stand and ski jump.
Lump sum or a pound of flesh?
Pick your poison 'fore you stick it in the pickled onion, yes!
"Confess!" the bad apple protested the good egg...
More skilled than a nutmeg.
Meat and potatoes of the case were a piece of cake.
Spilt the beans until he recognised what was at stake.
Hard to swallow but he took it with a grain of salt.
Caramel, case closed in a nutshell.
Well, what's left? Two peas in a pod...tell the chef to save them for the cod.
That's odd, he's eating pie in the sky; pondering about the bigger fish he has to fry.
Why cycling everyday didn't take it's toll, perhaps it was the scrolls in the pigeon holes with the LL and CH postcodes, well well let's see.
Wait...don't think so!
Perhaps it wasn't what he pictured at all, futzing about the vapid space, clock on the wall, mopping the floor, clocking in and out of the door like a bruhahahaha flocking into a store.
He parted ways with the sloppy, troglodyted phase,
engaged in opposites and people twice his age.
Still ate the chocolate though because it's fun
Don't even wanna rhyme, I just want some chocolate.

When can we just be friends?

Good morning, wake up, look down, look up, night night, sweet dreams, sleep tight, and sweep it under the rug.
Now look above, what do you see?
Can you envision a reflection of your mind as it fishes in the coral sea?
Could you trust another soul with your deepest, darkest secret buried deep inside you heart, regardless?
Take a second and forget the harvest, forget fear, forget your carcass, forget your car keys, forget judgement, forget about the sticky toffee pudding with the fudge and custard.
Just don't settle for that slippy slope, phone up hope, your old friend, she'll help you cope.
Take a mental note, get in the zone,
hone into her mellifluous and gentle tone.

Morning, wake up, look down, look up, night night, sweet dreams, sleep tight, and sweep it under the rug like...
Time, does it move in a straight line?
I'm leaning cyclical, you feeling digital?
A shiver spirals up my spine
and then I realised we spoke about this when we were nine or ten.
Floating through the reeds until we reach the bottom of the bank.
Seeds bundled up inside a cotton bandage.
Clouds drifting along with your sense of abandon.
You hear the faint distant sound of another language.
Spanish moss, tangled up tillandsia.
Overwhelming sense of ambivalence drank from the tankard.
You've come through the hullabaloo into something peculiar...
Where it's nice to be spoken to.