All Work and No Play Makes Jack a Dull Boy
The drip of the tap,
Is a vague fairy clap,
Here as I drown in the bed where I nap.
The breath of the cat,
As I lavish my pat—
A slow huffing train in my ear where I’m sat.
The lick of the sun,
Is as proud as a gun,
Blinding mine eye and I’m beaten, undone.
My shirts hanging true,
In a virginal hue,
White as the clouds floating high in the blue.
The carpet formation,
A standing ovation,
Very hypnotic with whisky sedation.
Calendar grids,
To condition the kids,
Life in free measure the crime it forbids.
Work and no play,
For today and today,
And today and today and today and today…
adamdaniel 