I’m a prisoner of this lullaby.
Almost asleep,
almost awake,
halfway
between
night and day
as I work
to make my pay.

Theoretically,
I am a zombie,
brain dead,
flesh fed
beast
who needs
to rest in bed
but I live in my head
instead.

Walking in the
wrong waking world,
on a ride to the otherside
of a goodnight,
but I just can’t
pass out with
all this disturbing ****
on my mind.

I’m so tired,
that I feel ill,
and intoxicated,
probably gonna wish
I had stopped and waited,
taken a fifteen-minute nap
at the nearest gas station.

Groggy and trying to drive;
You might see me,
My head may nod softly
as my car slides
and I hit those
who drive to close.
I’ll be
to weary
to even try
and cry out
any last words.