tootles gone wild

Waiting on the wax figures to come back to life is a battle I cannot afford inside.
Stretching legs move onward from the stillness that hasn't a style.
Chanting I jus don't give a figuratively flying fluke flung with derogatory exile.
Left for ears to catch a chime chirping downwind of tootles gone wild.
Patience has had its moment of over, sliding erasers shift upon curves of words muted.
Grounds dug a dig by the dog finding his bone n untucking balls disputed.
Running outta my minds riddled rhythms is the roast of a clown burnt to a char.