As the moon croaks

A winking blink of an eye barely closed

You cast a shiver down your own throat

And across your back

Safe in the knowledge that all is as its seems

And the jokes and the pokes

You believe to be tales told after sixteen pints

From a night on the ale

That would shave the hairs of next doors cat

Are no more than that

 

Whilst you moan that nothing will ever be the same

Since you seem to have lost the knack

To surrender your body to a full night of sleep

As you toss and you turn in hesitant sweats

Of organically grown frights of ghouls and ghosts

And make-believe monsters of hairy tooth claw

That seem to lurk behind every curtain and door

 

But the mirror reveals an uncanny resemblance

To someone you know

Your well-hidden identical twin

Who only comes out when you are drunk as a skunk

And falls over every stationary can and bin

You know the one the dancing twin

Whose got a gob like charm

Full of smarm

Until you stop

Roll over close your eyes

And snore the snore of a fire breathing dragon

until the hour of twelve the following day

where the dragon and your brother are banished for weeks

until the next time you decide to swallow

several pints of bishop’s finger, with black sheep

and a certain kind of old peculia