Roy L T Canard Si

hum...habit...hic...abbott woozy celebrating with British Royal Family and...hub bout red dee to take a snoozy sup...par'n...this poet fur...hib bit..bing a lil oozy. Now this raggedy man whilst deep in sleep this past night what felt like galactic body fell upon ma slumbering heap affecting immediate fear lest worst nightmare, would crush with might but lo…just then zee spouse plunked herself with unconsciousness deep unable to recapture pleasant dreams well nigh past day light. So...rather than emit shrieks like some angry birds the idea arose to attempt poem to express discombobulated state whereby grey matter feels similar to thick whey curds palliative sans restorative power per rest will clear muddled pate thick with grogginess and marauding herds of mailer daemons worse than unsuitable mate or a world wide web filled with nerds thus lethargy purged via catharsis with forming words that follow rhyming pattern to convey mood = to a synonym for turds. respite from a cat nap as tonic no lion here can spell relief and serve as balm with pillowed temptress ever near beckons softly inviting calm before this human goes a berserk manic tear being revisited from haunts inside head of this scrivener caught by men in white coats strait jacketing this maniac in tattered under wear whose tushy by the way oh about the size of an average palm yet taut for witnessing deux score plus eighteen mortal year.