Clockwork people

Tick. Tock.

Gears grinding

Wound up tight

I am clockwork people

Wind me with a key

Wind until you break me

The God Of Cheese

[This poem MUST be spoken in a Scottish accent. It's the law]

Hear ye!
Hear ye!
Hear ye!
For I am the God of Cheese

The God who speaks
Through the milk that reeks
The curdling king
Of dairy thing

Let all kowtow
To the black-and-white cow
For mature or mild
They are all my child

In the dead of night
All oot of sight
To yon house I'll burgle
Your milk to curdle

To be curds and whey
By the break of day
Such things do please
The God of cheese

Reconnecting with me

I stare at the ceiling
And all I hear is the pling of a metal roof
Creaking and straining at night

They think I'm sad
Or maybe a little depressed
I'm just thinking
Trying to empty my head

And I'm going cold turkey

I should be Tweeting
Or Instagramming
Or Netflixing

A thousand and one topics
And pictures and punchlines
Are being shared
And hashtagged
And liked

My hand twitches
Because there's nothing in it
Like a phantom limb

I could be missing something fantastic
And amazing
I'm missing it all

Just a peek?
Go on!

No!

I'm just trying to remember
What I want to make me happy

Just tonight.