Early Morning Transmission Poem by Neil Solan

I roll over to my right-hand side
And burn my sleeping face
On a device that clearly shouldn't be there.
I should probably think about moving my bed.
It's time to rise anyhow,
I have to put the bin out
And water the dog.
I mean, feed the dog, not water it.
I don't think watering it will make her grow
Big and strong. Like a politician's ego.

'If I was a packed lunch
Comprising of some cheese sandwiches,
A crunch corner yogurt,
A bottle of berry flavoured Oasis
And a packet of salt & vinegar McCoys,
Where would I be? '
I look where I decided I would be
If I was the above mentioned,
But I am not there.
IT is not there, I should say.

I lose myself in a daydream
Of gooseberry picking proprtions
And fall onto the floor
In fits of laughter. (For it is not gooseberry picking season) .
I awaken.
I die.
I go to Hell.
I die again.
I become the Second Phase.
I meet up with two of my bestest friends, Fate and Monopoly.
The End.