You’re my special someone ‘til the end of time,
My gin and tonic to my splash of lime.
You’re my small umbrella in my exotic cocktail,
My refreshing breeze propelling my sail.
You’re my reason to wake with a smile on my face,
My obedient pet to hug and embrace.
You’re my sparkling star in the darkest of night,
My shining beacon and my guiding light.
You’re my positive thought snuggling in my head,
My freshly washed sheets straddling across my bed.
You’re my motivation for living life true,
My excitement for starting over anew.
You’re my obsession, possession, lover for life,
My soul companion during the afterlife.
You’re my morning coffee, that shot of caffeine,
My wonderful servant, and I am your Queen.
I’ve hit self-destruct and my time is oozing out,
I want my head to shush but all it does is shout,
Self-loathing vile thoughts are all that I hear,
I fear that my brain will crank up a gear.
I see light and love, but I deflect it away,
I am a plane crashing down without a Mayday.
My heart is anaesthetised to numb the dull pain
But I long to feel a healing love once again.
I need someone to assemble my cracked pieces
Before this intensity of thought increases,
But I can’t let people in to my scrambled mess
When trying to love myself brings such distress.
I need someone to hold me but that’s out of reach,
A black cloud sucks life from me like a famished leech
I wish I was a potato, lounging in a field,
Dreaming of being scrubbed and delicately peeled.
I’d aspire to being dauphinoise
But that would take some class I guess.
Maybe I’d be chunky chips
And hang around with spicy dips.
Or I could be some creamy mash
Whipped up with butter in a flash.
Maybe I’d chill and watch a show,
Being a magnificent couch potato.
Another year older and what have I done?
I’ve held on to my sanity and had lots of fun.
I went to a boot camp and did a zip wire,
Screaming so much like my ass was on fire.
I went to a film set and had my throat slit,
It looked really gory but didn’t hurt one bit.
Inglorious in concert and Wayward Sons too,
Electric Six was a blast, and Dick Valentine, woo!
The Emmerdale weekend was of course a highlight,
If I ever missed that my year wouldn’t seem right.
Met Michael Madsen at London Comic Con,
A chat with him and my legs were gone.
I went to a wedding that was full of romance,
I felt all happy and in a love trance.
I relaxed in Jersey with walks along the beach
And got mugged by a seagull with the loudest screech.
I left my job as it was getting a strain,
Went back to my old one for the sake of my brain.
Book number four was hot off the press.
And I ate too much fudge, I must confess.
I met lots of new friends to add to the collection,
I really do have such a wonderful selection.
If this following year is even half as much fun
I’ll be a bouncy, jolly, happy bun*.
*Unless I meet Judd Nelson, where I’ll spontaneously combust,
And drift of in the atmosphere like sparkly purple dust.
As I laze here in post-Christmas slump
I’m drinking coffee via a pump.
I look like I’ve eaten an inflated space hopper,
I could explode any time, like a giant party popper.
I’ve scoffed so much sugar I’m turning into fudge,
You’ve done the same so please don’t judge.
I need to roll off the sofa and partake in exercise,
But to the muscles in my legs this might be a surprise.
Bring out the salad, it’s time to detox,
My skin’s breaking out like some kind of pox.
A healthy new me will now atone,
Oh, look over there, some rogue Toblerone.
Slow flowing blood boiling just like hot jam,
My legs are swollen and smelling of ham.
Sticky sweat coating me with salty brine,
Telling myself it’s going to be fine.
Internal organs cooking up a treat
Turning to a Full English in this heat.
I have no energy to try to speak,
My limbs are heavy and feeling so weak.
My make-up’s melting all down my face,
My lungs constrict like I’ve run a tough race.
I’m tetchy, snarly and starting to growl,
Factor fifty plastered on with a trowel.
Handfuls of ice cubes go into my bra,
The sanest idea I’ve had by far.
Hating happy people loving the sun,
I want it to rain and spoil all their fun.
With my red face looking like salami
It’s not a heatwave – it’s a heat tsunami.