As I lay me down to sleep
I dream of things
like gasoline
Not how we’ll run out
But the smell, and potential
I want to find
A nice place on the countryside
A crop circle, perhaps
Make babies for labor
Wait for sheriff in a rocking chair
With a double-barrel shotgun
Apple butter on the stove
I’ll feed the masses
With a steady stream of bullshit
I learned at University
How entitled must you be
To don blue hair at twenty?
I dream of sleep inside the crevice of a carotid artery
I dream of zero-gravity
I envy a straight-jacket, coloring book
I wish they made more breakfast soup
My colleague he once told me
“You’re a genius,”
and
“Don’t let anyone tell you different,”
I didn’t know what to say
So I thought of jumping bridges
For the remainder of the day
Telling lines on a tired face
Tell tales yet unread
I’m mopping up the past with a decapitated head
And trying to save the princess on a glue-fated steed
Six of one, half a dozen,
C’est la vie, she can’t read
I’m following redundant stars
Hear lucky ones are plenty
I’d kill for Galileo’s eyes
But was he getting any?