Reading this poem I think you’ll find

Its rhythm irregular and littered with half-rhymes,

Partly due to laziness or my zombie-fyed mind.

Not even a rhyming dictionary can save me now,

Because without the basic brain cells I don’t know how

To function when my consciousness keeps shutting down.

And I’d like to apologise – my writing is quite bad,

But when the sand man shows his face I’ll be glad.

He’s skipped out on me these last few weeks.

Yes, a world of exhaustion is really quite bleak.

And because of these dulled senses I spew out poem like these –

A clomp of pure randomness, wouldn’t you agree?

It is as though structure and common sense did not exist,

Though back in Dream Land those qualities aren’t missed.

So Mr Sand Man don’t be so cruel –

I’ve got more bags than Tesco’s because of you!

And by bags I mean the ones that hang beneath my eyes

Making me look like L from the Death Note in female disguise.

Did I eat some cheese? I don’t want dreams of fright,

I’m longing for the embrace of a good dream tonight.

ZZZzzzZZZzzzZZZzzz.

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Exhibit A why poetry is next to impossible to write when the writer is absolutely knackered.

updated Jul 2 '11 by Lexiehar