Whateveter

I am, iamb, I'm here again. Zzz z
Ironic fingers doing sleep instead
Of my own eyes. And accidentally
My fingers write their own story
The what, not how, the chorus does not shout!
We're here again, again again again,
You happy now?
I laughed a bit, gleeful as cycle starts again;
Up! Drink! Eat! Out late! Asc! Desc! Change! Teach! Tea!
Those last two wrong way round for me
And now I'm leaking from my face orifices
(that ghastly Swiss cheese Greek heroic tease)
Do I owe lessons to those babes whose gods declare
"Thou shalt become acceptable: society and me demand it"
I am a bit whatemeter this time, but like,
Ya know,
Whateveter
That cheap recovery has led to swift decovery
With 4 small time to go
I be within the glow
Of dimmèd yet undaunted screen that,
Easy as eating crumble,
Binds my mind with succulent barbarity
While were I in my REM
(REM REM the cycle goes: no wonder I don't sleep)
Then snotless would I be.
Things not written, things not done or done as should not be
The shoulds begin leniting
Though addiction is quite fetching.