A Stroll Through Your Lobes

Your skull I bogard./
The pen acts as a crowbar./
I Break and enter/
in your mental perimeter./
I want to mention,/
intentions are not sinister./
Dome invasions/
are like home invasions./
These poems I form/
are quite invasive./
Ransack your home/
while giving you a facelift./
I’m called in the halls/
of your subconscious./
A constant rummage/
in your sonic/
is what I come with./
Reckless thoughts are/
100 miles and running./
They crash into your fabric;/
while you’re stuck in traffic/
of your thought patterns./
I bring back atoms./
light years/
beyond Saturn./
You’re astonished this/
content is/
adjacent to deep space 9./
The paper is a portal/
for my deep space rhymes./
Floating in your head space. I’m/
without gravity./
I’m not bragging…see,/
But your attention/
is grabbing me./
Shiny rhymes/
are waxing me./
I stay in your ear/
like wax indeed./
From your mind/
I evict wack mc’s;/
Look out of your/
front door./
Set eyes/
on where these/
words reside./
A high rise…condo;/
eye level/
to the sun though./
no time to see it all/
on your lunch though./
The residents/
here, provide/
you with medicine./
God said, “Bless You.”/
When I sneeze on you,/
it’s for the betterment/
of your health and,/
now you’re a better man./
The pen is a/
Dodge Dart./
It transports me
to your heart./
Rhymes climb/
from your/
ear lobes/
to your ear hole./
As a seller,/
of quotes/
I got to meet/
the quota/
so I say hello–/
to your frontal,/
parietal, and/
limbic lobes./
The telepathic flow;/
Professor X,/
with the use of his legs/
all in your head/
taking a stroll./