Morning, like a burglar,
crept into my head.
He shone his torch about a bit
and then he stood and said:
‘Get up, you lazy bastard,
and feel the joy of life!
Grab it by the twemlows
as if it was your wife!’
But unbeknownst to Morning,
I had a better plan:
I kicked him in the pilbeams
as if he was a man.
With Morning doubled up in pain,
I slunk back into bed.
I’ve got all the life I’ll ever need,
right here in my head.
Lone Words 