Fish Shaped Toast
From the breakfast table, my two feet carry my little fluffy body onwards, onwards toward the day,
It’s swimming into my head now; it gives me the energy to go on, onwards toward my next adventure,
I may be smaller than others; in fact I’m tiny to say the least alas onward, and on my way,
It’s swarming into my skin; it gives me the energy to go on, onwards through the blistering temperature.

For now I reach work, the tedium of it all, all of it seems the same, is the same, but never actually is,
Why? I pick out the last piece from my teeth and ponder on the road to work.
Working with an iced cold tea from the fridge, and an another piece of toast that was,
Cold, bitter, butter dripping finger licking, crunching crusted, hard to go from sane to berserk

Wander around for days, t’was what I used to do, lurk in the black and white, with coloured ties too,
Alas? It spoke out of turn, toast can’t speak, I thought aloud, I must be but mad.
Alas? I t’wasn’t it did speak, cold raspy voice, from fire it scorched the bread and the crust too.
I had cut off before, seemed to stay, seemed to mould, seemed to know I had....

Alas forgotten the wooden toothpick, scratch the pieces of dead bread-crumbs from my pointed fangs,
Nor I was not, have not, will not. 
Alas I had, I did, seemed to be left in the tedious carousel, the music replays, toast goes pop and bangs,
Blasted toaster, can’t toast, toast. I forgot.

Burnt bread aside, then into the rubbish bin, it did go. It’s hard to have to stand on a stool to reach it,
But as I ponder, left to wonder, nibbling on the third slice of toast for the way I walk through town.
Brandish a blade, to spread the square piece that glistens, butter finally covered the corners of it,
Blemish that I missed the last time sets, still reaching the piece of toast amongst, burnt bright brown.
Finally the shuttle arrives and it seems the day is over; my adventure is complete, set in stone,
Till the bus, it broke down, blasted public service, I think. I go the step a mile high for me, to the floor.
Finally as I set back amongst the streets, the clitter clatter of high hells, on pebble dash zone,
Till the whistles of hustle bustle busyness fades, as I reach an opened sideway door.

Nigh I would of spotted this before, speaks the tiger, internally, walking this road oh many times before
Now where does this lead, again to self, hears a strange echo, bubbling voice speaks, it’s okay, I’m alive.
Now that would not establish the greatest bit of caution but the tiger stood there at the opened door,
Nigh I swore I heard a voice, but how did this thing survive?

It came once more, the echo much louder the voice much clearer but the message still said, I’m alive.
What was it? A trickery of childish fiends, with their blasted techno gismo’s electronics must be them
But the voice now grew further, duller, calmer more mature, the message longer. Look forward to strive.
What did this mean? The tiger tip toed forth into the alley way dripping pitter patters settle and then.

Nothing but a loud clutter, the tiger darts forward, the wicker basket display blocks the opened way shut
Blast! I must go on, find out that voice, maybe it’s my head playing tricks, or my hunger.
Belly grumbles groans, maybe I’m sick of all that work toast, start bringing bread from home and WHAT..
‘I’m alive’ the voice started to sound like thunder.

Speaking in riddles back forth, the tiger closed his eyes and thought it must be over and makes a wish
The cry grows and the voice echo wanders off, almost away from him.
As he opened his eyes, there right in front of him stood a Waverly yet manly tall fish.
‘I’m alive’ it says to comfort him.

The tiger ponders onwards, ‘Yes, Yes, you are’ still bewildered shocked, never seen a talking fish,
The fish speaks, ‘I’m alive’, as to encourage the tiger on, waving him through with his fin.
The feline yonder on, bemused and befuddled by what he sees as the fish takes out a butter dish.
The tiger looks on, as the fish, opens a door to a house, modest quant ,  and when..

The fish looks at the tiger and asks ‘I am alive’ points to the tiger to ask him his name, as host,
Bizarrely the tiger was starting to understand, and nods but as he perched the name on the tip of his lips
The fish is gone to make some food, must be all the grumbling, or else he’s surely insane,
The tiger says “Its Toast”

The fish looks confused, as he walked into the kitchen with a big stack of toast as the rattles came
The fish shakes as he placed it on the table, and speaks to him, in turn 
“You knew” and the tiger laughs and falls to the floor “No my name, my name”
In fits of laughter, the fish bewildered “Toast” would turn

Toast spoke at him from behind a barrage of tears of joy “Yes my names Toast” he cries bemused
The fish looks and says “Oh, I’m alive” 
“What?” the tiger speaks again, the fish still confused.
The tiger laughing and the fish says “Toast, I’m alive”

The tiger speaks once more before awaking suddenly in bed, with breadcrumbs all over
A fish at the foot, and a doctor at the side snapping his glove on,
“I’m afraid it’s all this toast in his head, its driving him mad” the doctor says moreover
The tiger groans, the toast is all gone, but a fish and doctor still eat it on and on