Scales as flinty as chocolate mint icing around baggie eyes that close at the sound of defecating monsters lining up in the hall.

Leading up to the wall stud where the picture of my past hangs.

Moved horizontal five times in a row with a vertical precipice inching over the cowl of your sad face.

Times have changed, bad replaces tipsiness and horrors lie in your refrigerator, waiting to ride you.

And ride your little one trick pony too as it eats your heart and kill everybody in the world.

Which brings this thread back to its comfy bed, sleep right and don't fall for the easy roads, or you'll regret your bed making skills that went to waste.