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when I'm in my zone
I turn off the phone
what channel, no T.V on
I look in the mirror, calling it out
that's what channeling
a poem is about
my eyes dart back and forth
looking so psychotic
I'm feeling chaotic
bout to kick up a storm
and start some mess
get out of the way
you've been warned
hot, cold, you've been told
this causes for alarm
I've been bit by a flow bug
walking across the throwrug
like a June bug in the middle
of October
why do you shrug
what's the matter with your shoulders
I'm not high I'm sober
but, don't you ever, ever
come over here
I got a bug in my ear
a bee in my bonnet
head swollen up
where's my hydroxzine
like high octane
propane acesseries
to go with my
nescasaries
weight that's hard to carry
yoking me, choking me
I can't catch my breath
I need a second wind to kick in
the door and free me
