In the wee hour of morn I find myself
beginning to 'break'
Mind feverishly trying to escape the
chain of flesh , as if sanity were being
tested , creativity divested
Seven notes are typically not enough , twenty six
symbols in myriad groupings , white
noise confusion , in control illusions
A dump truck filled with crush and run -
dripping water on a lonesome road
Crumbling walls laden with Block Mason -
indiscretions vying for a sin removing -
coat of cheap paint
A telephone pole supported by wiring swinging
in midair , drunk on depression pills catching
my gaze in cheap artwork , narcoleptic days
Clabbered milk thrown to the hogs , nightmare
K-9 dogs unable to be explained
My friend the wind at the window with no one to play
Bright eyes refuse to focus when the child forgets their way