Sleepwalking

The mind of the poet is like a ticking clock

That’s always winded up and never stops

No rest, no peace, wide awake, can’t sleep

A better addict won’t stop until I’m better at it

What’s behind the mind you wouldn’t believe

The mission is to intrigue

Forever strong

Hair forever long

Rows and stacks and snacks

In the back like a brainsick maniac

Sleep walking, hypnotized seeing things

Through the devils eyes

A demon in disguise

Infiltrate

I’ve lost my touch

Can’t feel as much

Liquefied, translucent inside

Too bad to be innocent

Never claimed to be a saint

Truthfully I try to be

The best I can be

But honestly I’m sinfully a mess

Like an out of tune symphony

Tone deaf out of order

My throats dry can I get some water

Kosher than a Jewish deli

Fat like a big belly

It’s 3am time to wake the dead

Shake the graves get up out of bed

I’m mad not angry madness is my pedigree

I was born on the last Viet Nam bomb blast

There was a storm brewing in the forecast

Martin Luther King had a dream

It was a hell of a scene to be seen

If I could have opened my eyes