I am a trinket on your shelf

An inanimate doll added to your collection

But I see you sleep, I too see you sneeze

Collecting your mucus on your bedside table in clumps.

We, the Worry-Dolls, Picture Books, Clay Tea-Pots and the odd nostalgic childhood momentos,

we conspire,

while your closing eyelids tire and oscillate timely each night.

Until that routine time, static is all you see from We.

A nightly compulsion grew,

into a heaping DNA-snot-pool.

My ceramic skin is flaking, dust.

Yet you find yourself parenting the biting mites.

If you knew I could feel and think,

you’d have polished my buck-teeth long ago.

If you’d have known our thoughts as we do yours,

a shiny turntable and weekly clean for your G.I Joe and friends.

But you’re a hoarder, Boy.

We all know it, all of us - bar you.