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(Another poem I wrote a few years ago)

Frozen in time,
Another cliché,
But what can he say,
When it's the same, day after day.

Back again,
With words to play,
Must be boredom,
Rather than something genuine to say.

His status,
It seems,
Was in hiatus.
The lyrical dreams,
Betrayed us.

Refer to myself in the person third,
For those who heard,
And understood,
And would,
Realise,
It's arrogance.
Impertinence.
A sign of my decadence,
And my self-importance.

Don't look beyond the lines,
There's nothing to see,
No rhyming structure,
Or simile.
No assonance,
Sibilance,
Or pathetic fallacy.
They're just words,
Strung together, see,
Made to sound good,

And if you should,
Look for more,
Feel free,
Go explore,
Try to see,
Dig deeper
You won't find much,
Just me. The bone idle, daytime sleeper.