Ink is the heroine and pen the needle that moves guided by my fever. The ink pulsates within transmuting into words and phrases. My heart expands racing with visions. The side effect... a written poem that perhaps will give some peace. Peace from my addiction to live before it starts all over again. It is an addiction many a poet had to fight over centuries. Their lesson let it flow let it grow.

You had a gut feeling
right out of your catnap, didn’t you?
An SOS from a UFO?
Who had ever heard
of something so preposterous?

The Captain was a company man,
which is a nice way to say
'corporate puppet.'
His equally duped thrill-seeking buddy
got caught with egg on his face,
before giving birth to one ugly baby.

Did anyone help clean up
the petrified chick,
or post a stupid sign
on the Captain's forehead?
Levity was in short supply this far out,
apparently reason was too,
this explains how a game of hide and seek
morphed into ten little indians.

But surprise, surprise!
Science guy was a skin job.
How sad, how sad!
All your fellow employees
came to a sticky end.
Only your nine-lived four-legged
friend somehow held out.

Sandwiched neatly between
a rock and a hard place,
you revised the game plan,
‘twas time to punch your ticket
for the last wagon out of town
and strip down to your skivvies.
Hey, whatever floats your boat!

Only to your chagrin
you discovered a ****** in close quarters,
trying to hitch a nightmare of an Uber ride.
No damsel in distress here,
vexed over his ****** advances
you joined the #MeToo movement,
then ignited the overgrown termite
and made him eat your dust,
until a crushed soda can
on its way to the recycling center.
Not bad for a warrant officer!