I’m twiddling my thumb

Snorlax that yawns an alarm to cookie cutters

 Spooky hunter without a nocky marker

Bulls-eye starter seeking to find an axis fold

Ooh Jones, I’m so archaic to rap absent lights with a stellar club

Off track being looking rather morose 

So this leads to lamping dim-poems

I gaze at bereavement stratagem my collapse

“I’m all set in anticipation of removing your fortitude”

Who’s phased eye-balls corkscrew at every hairpin curve

Do play the game, the jigsaw will leave morbidly deranged

Scratching your magic number

Ooh for Pete’s sake, not yet another speaking mantelpiece

Floating within an endless slumber

Shit-in the face like hauling a toilet paper play-mate

It’s the era of the tumble weeds

Litigating the Zephyrs’ breeze for negligence

Paint dries slowly, grass sprouts’ growth spurs to test patience

My neo treats burn ever so beautifully

It’s burping therapy like a gold fish blowing bubbles

And trouble hovers around hardy rest huddles

Horrid stutters that uplift rut the gutters

So I scratch my high-brow to make sure the spark still beams phat