So close to your scent, I feel I should pay rent.
Something you will not know you smell, until a time comes when you go.
And suddenly everything smells like that.
WHAT IS THAT SMELL?
And you calculate the ingredients to the potion of that smell..
A smell you know so well..
But you can not list it's properties
You are it's only property.
A smell you can not tell the smell of.
And when we're back again the smell almost goes, it gets camp set up and lost inside my nose.
You enter the world of this smell, it's warm and it's cozy, it's familiar and almost dusty.
It smells like skin.
Which smells like nothing.
It smells like hair
Which smells like something.
It smells like breath without a particular scent.
It smells like clothes and armpits.
It smells like a sample scent of another world.
Which I am nosing around
It smells like all of your belongings and all the things that you do put into one familiar you.
It smells like sawdust, it smells like dog walking, it smells like toast, it smells like early morning, it smells of the coast, it smells of laptop, it smells of toothpaste, it smells like tents.
It smells of carpets, It smells of washing powder, It smells of your house and your power shower, It smells like Apple shampoo and all the other things that you like to do.
It smells like you.

It's 8:38
And I'm worried I'm going to be late.
But I go on and on to procrastinate.
It's not even amusing, what is this that I'm choosing?
I'll cut my nails, I'll stare at spider's webs.
At the moment I have no time, I suddenly find things to do.
And in the times I have too much time I have never things to do.
I am going to write a letter, I am going to check the weather, I am going to read a book.. Well I haven't the time... I'll just have a look.
I am going to learn how to cook this and that, I'm going to buy a funny hat, I'm going to find out how to ti different knots, I'm going to see if I can squeeze any spots.
I can take my dog for a walk, I'll phone a friend I fancy a talk.
I'll change that bulb Iv;e been meaning to do, I'll re-read that thing about why the sky is blue.
I'll find those candles I've been looking for, and organize my sock draw.
I need to chuck away those clothes, I need to quickly blow my nose, I really need to tidy up the stairs and plump the cushions on the chairs.
I could practice my guitar, I need to learn to drive a car.
It's 8:48
Nah, I won;t be late.
I could squeeze in time to hoover up, I can squeeze in time for another cup.
But of course.
I do non of this.
This is entire Gibberish.
I know I have no time,
I can't begin one task, I'll be there for another hour
And I still haven't even had a shower,
so instead I'll just procrastinate,
thinking of the things that could make me late.

And in the end right at the very beginning of the next day
In the midth of a thicket, by a lolloping bay
sat in a dextrous room, with a face and hands and other notable human characteristic was indeed a human (subject to prior clues in text)
fumbling, and tumbling, surfing and glaring at a screen. So bright in the darkness of the night, unable to rest those lids that were prayed to droop, have a cup of hollax, have a ****?

There was once a random fusion of cells who answered to the combination of sounds that when ordered in a particular way together said:
'G E O R G E'
    and he fumbled and stumbled and over used his words,
and one could hear him from miles around gobbing and yobbing. Just one big sound.
That tongue never stopped rolling, and noise never stopped emanating. A walking compressment of carbon molecules in-disguise, his secret persona being a speaker.
And he would speak out of his sickingly momentous beak.
And make others quite tired and weak..
All hours for a whole week
an infinite roll a pancake chatter.
natter and tatter
a roll of noise
a one man band come splattering and chattering in through your life and then he would yell over the hill again.
And like in some chapter book in the law of physics it is often understood that when a subject something exhibiting noise gets further and further away from the subject, the sound becomes less and less due to distance.
This does not apply to a George.
And like the sound barrier,
WHY.. what is this sound BARRIER you speak of?
if you go to this such barrier, and take a left and follow this ruckus of English yells you shall find him somewhere way above yonder.
Having a *** and having a ponder, who ever knew you could do this so loudly? who ever knew one took this so proudly.
Inhaling oxygen.. exhaling carbon dioxide?
Inhaling? Nein. drawing breath? why does one need rest? valuable seconds are wasting, I need to keep on sound demonstrating.