There’s a little something my soul feels down about.
It’s like my toes all opened up and joy swiftly seeped on out.
It won’t share yet what it is, so I have to calmly breathe,
Before gathering it back in like an unwound ball of weave.
I awoke with it hissing like several snakes inside my ears.
They writhe around blindly, the little lost dears.
Where they come from I don’t know, they enter in my sleep.
Can you hear me, Captain K, the dark is very deep!
I am hungry but repulsed by food: what a pretty pickle.
This must be just another day for the horizontal Mr Fickle.
I don’t want disturbing, but i’d love some company.
Some think I’ve lost my tiny mind, when I give it away for free.
Therefore, I hold nobody responsible for my state of mind.
The mirror is the culprit! This is what we the jury find!
Sentence him to twenty more years of serious loop the loop.
By then he won’t know where from when; the flump-faced nincompoop.