Mister Inessential
Even Mike from Picture Loans don't wanna banter
'bout the football: I must be Mr. N.S. Senshawl.
My fascias & guttering are gagging for it,
but Safestyle never call: I must be Mr. N.S. Cenchall.
Nadir? It wasn't bloomers baron Asil
in Cypriot sanctum tranquil:
it's me, myself & Mr. N.S. Senchall.
All the shitposting edgelords
catsitting for their exes Saturdaynight
are still more cool
than Mr. N.S. Senshaul.
I cross the informationsuperbillygoatsgruffbridge,
data unharvested: 'NIFOC@Norwich' has no hits.
'Erm drat & dratdrat, someone must have hacked
my username!' blushed Mr. N. S. Censhawl.
Wondeful Winterval card was a circular
from the Inland Revenue.
Wasn't even addressed to
Mr. N.S. Senchawl.
In my hibernaculum, awaiting the business acumen
of a Sally Army mercenary, knocking to sell
me a doorbell that plays, 'Jingle Bells,
Mr. N.S. Censhall smells'.
Neither chaplain attached to suicide magnet estates,
nor My Own Personal Semitic Jazz Zeus,
deigns to minister
to unspeakably forgotten
O Me Of Little Face,
Mr. N.S. Cenchawl.
& I'm nowhere near as
unseemly as all the major faiths.
Even if I rescued Meghan Markle
from Mr. & Mrs. Shackles' tumbril,
the Duchess on an unofficial trip
to the Sadie-masie Bunnyland
themepark in Much Marcle,
sable-swaddled in rapekit ducktape,
the press would still misspell the hero of the hour's name,
'Mr. N.S. Censhaul'.
On my birth certificate, impasto vitiligo
of correction fluid furs the phobile mone no.
at my mum's hobile mome
in the 'If lost, please return this baby to..'
section. As for my name,
I cannot decifur
if it's Mr. N.S. Senchaul
or Mr. N.S. Senshall.
All these years, maybe I was christened
'Mysteron Is Sensual'.
Has my mind gone blanket,
or is it a sense shawl?
Now I feel l/ Wolverine,
at least a vulperteen.
Militaryindustrial bastards, sob,
did they massacre my memories, bub?
Defuse my dreams of a life less stabby?
Contorture me into this cybertiger Caliban,
monstro-Mowgli?
Now I feel l/ Wolverine's
wisdomtooth, a pain deemed
so negligible
- l/ Mr. N. S. Cenchaul.
Stan, Stan!
Radioman
Baker, M'intosh, Zodiac Killer,
Dr. Livingstone,
Mike from Picture Loans,
do you copy, over?
It's me, Mr. N.S. Dooberry.