Yay! It’s eight o’clock!?
Early morning alarm gives me shock.
In the shower, I think about William Butler Yeats,
but I dare not let anyone know that, because it’s embarrassing.
I’m already blushing, just thinking about it,
just thinking about what I just wrote.
How do I work with this,
maybe I should approach this like I would a rabid dolphin.
You know, stay out of the water and approach with care, and maybe a shotgun,
because if they get to you first, you’re better off dead.
For the zombies will feast and in turn leave you wanting more.
Yay! It’s eight o’ clock?!
And I’ve already been up for three hours!
How can you sleep when there are so many things to do?
What do I do first?!
I feel so heavy,
maybe it’s because I’m on a planet with 1.8 times the mass of Earth.
Wait, was that a storm trooper?
No, just a kitten. How could I confuse the two?
Easily for a deer is an elephant and an elephant is a dog;
and a llama found
Yay! It’s eight o’clock?
It reeks of sewage rot
and skeletal remains of rats cover the ground,
everything is dust and decay and silence.
The corpse, belayed, never passive
her corpse was stuck on an A flat, she didn’t notice.
Like Little Miss Sunshine, they found porn in the trunk,
along with handcuffs and strawberries.
She tripped on the pavement and the strawberries mashed,
she fell on the ground and the cloud berries flashed
now she is covered because she crashed.