i dont generally like poetry,in fact i hate it but my insanely gifted english teacher did prise this out of me:

"ahem" Preludes
tick...tock...tick..tock...ticketty-tock
time is running out,
sand running through hands,
the white rabit is latelatelate
and rushes on.the humourless
skull approaches over the horizon-
and grinning insanely beckons on.

there was no point
he craved a long and deep sleep
to him it was like a refreshing draught of water
but-
when it was to be done,
whence then-heaven or hell?
or was he not in hell already?
for it was certainally not heaven.

when then it was done;
starched bed sheets
and he sighed.