Sometimes when I'm alone at night
I lie stock still, frozen in fright
Of evasive smells
And roaches, white.

What will become of me? I hardly know
I eat air, promise cramm'd
Until my lungs won't grow.

But then, p'rhaps, I might just cling
Onto a word, a look, a pink something
That may or may not have taken place
Within or around interplanetary space.

It's what you say, it's how you say
These things you say
To me
Each day.

Rosie, my rose, my rose of prose;
You push me gently by the nose.

Sam, Sam, my sunshine man,
Together we make (M)eggs and (S)ham.

Erin! Erin! You laugh and cry
Simultaneous-lie inside my eye
Like music to calm our butterflies

Ali, my dear, so pretty in pixels!
Talents that lie in fingers like pencils
Bionic hand attached to the screen
You move, it moves, I laugh, it gleans.

Trirro, O Trirro, you fill my thoughts with interesting things
Like poo and pastiche and paradigmings.

My Clancy, little canary, with tongue so long
Lizardine girl, thou cannot do any wrong.

Sasha's, dear Sasha's, I chop, I blink
I smile until my face hurts and I cannot think
Whilst slicing sweet potato at the canyon sink.

There is more to this list
That my hand fails to write,
But thankyou for reading,
And to all, a goodnight.