Beddie Bye Boo Ski Time For Yours Truly and Or the Missus

Beddie bye boo ski time for yours truly and/or the missus (joining "Wynken, Blynken and Nod" at figurative drop of hat even if yours truly immediately woke from his slumbers). When zapped of energy the sandman doth knock no matter readout of analog or digital o'clock hankering urge to sleep exponentially increased with every passing tick tock. Our marital bed occupied about two and half score years since we (me and the spouse) wed even during spate (sowing wild oats - regarding gathering rosebuds while I may) of mine risqué business, when unnamed husband did dread with extreme trepidation manning left side (picture said individual lying on his back) atop (sleep number) mattress, predicting spouse considered me (courtesy crimes of passion) better off dead. Though both deux daughters (figuratively) flew the coop mine wife chides me courtesy (unwittingly preceding trend concerning popular couture), where she playfully pulls down mine baggy sweatpants leaving drawers droop around mine skinny (think chicken) spindle shank like bow legs bent appendage vaguely hinting hula hoop (fake detail here, which singular purpose to supplement reasonable rhyme ultimately sole purpose to lasso and loop) exert tight hold on reader's imagination more torturous versus unsuspected prey subjected to deafening war whoop after cannibals counted scalps sacrificed victims as human zoup. Before concluding current poem (which prompts me to think metaphysically ruminating regarding when does authored written work reach childhood's end) possibly vexing readers to trot off to zz top less land miserably (perhaps purposely) failing to pony up reining in long overdue adieu, where beastie boy king of schnorrers snores dreaming about foo fighting motley crue (in dire straits) donned in gay apparel characteristic ecru whereby unconsciousness REM memorable cycles found upper and lower eyelids shuttered courtesy invisible glue hermetically sealed airtight as blocks of ice constituting (albeit housing) an igloo temperatures greater than five below fahrenheit finds me freezing off my kazoo, hence despite somnambulant state I (charming cheater) trod along tundra of broken (not very sweet) dreams. Invariably somnolence finds me dead tired no recourse available when energy meter expired. Impossible mission to thwart repose thus once noggin plunges into pillow thus these lovely bones approximate rigor mortis pose faint breathing detectable out me nose intermittent twitching of limbs characterize highs and lows stuff mine dreams are made where mishmash of images juxtapose.