Thousands of sheep, soft-footed, black-nosed sheep--
one by one going up the hill and over the fence--one by
one four-footed pattering up and over--one by one wiggling
their stub tails as they take the short jump and go
over--one by one silently unless for the multitudinous
drumming of their hoofs as they move on and go over--
thousands and thousands of them in the grey haze of
evening just after sundown--one by one slanting in a
long line to pass over the hill--

     I am the slow, long-legged Sleepyman and I love you
sheep in Persia, California, Argentine, Australia, or
Spain--you are the thoughts that help me when I, the
Sleepyman, lay my hands on the eyelids of the children
of the world at eight o'clock every night--you thousands
and thousands of sheep in a procession of dusk making
an endless multitudinous drumming on the hills with
your hoofs.

i looked in the mirror at my bearded face
and peered into my eyes.
and saw all the things I hated.
hypocrisy.
ignorance.
jealousy.
confusion.

in that moment
i became something I hated,

i can't be this person.

Around the bend, baggage claim.
    

      The carousel comes around again.
    

      I try to find the ones my own,
    

      I see the first as it comes down.
    

      This first one, small, so quaint, so plain.
    

      Carries all of my pain...tings.
    

      The second slowly drifts across,
    

      I'm glad that this one was not lost.
    

      A medium size bag with a tiny hole,
    

      It carries the remnants of my soul..dier memorabilia.
    

      Two more bags I await, the next one appears at the gate.
    

      Another smaller bag that is beat up, and tattered within.
    

      If opened you would find all my sin...icle comics that I
      collect.
    

      As I wait for my final bag.
    

      Hours pass as times drags.
    

      I ask where it may have gone,
    

      I'm told it was lost before the plane had flown.
    

      Saddened with this news alas.
    

      For that final baggage held my past...els.

Pour me some wine
******* some smoke
I can't do it, it's too messy

You kiss my legs
I can't resist it
I pull you close
You push me out

Repeat.

It's complicated!
You get too close
I kiss your lips
Confusion

Conclusion?

It's okay now
You can let me in
While I push you out

Love, love me!
Please disappear
I need you here

Get out of here
I need you so
We're so scandalous

It got too messy
You said we're done
I pushed you too much

I never wanted that bus to come
I never wanted to say goodbye

you told me that you were
just playing it safe,
careful to keep your perfectly powdered face from grime
and getting dirt under your manicured nails.
you try to maintain that posture with poise and grace,
while others break their backs and crawl
on the ground on their knees and bellies.

you told me 
that you are playing nice.
you said that you are loving, caring, kind, and generous
and all those pretty qualities.
that's true,
but 
one glance at your eyes 
is enough to know fully that 
you are also
fearful and terrified.
you are a coward:
a prisoner of pride
playing god as you place your trust on yourself.
taunted by questions of  rejection, ability, and sufficiency,
you cowered in your high tower
instead of joining the frontlines in the fight.
frozen by fear
your heart has gone too numb and cold, for
the doubt and anxiety has put out your fire.

you said that you have won it all.
but actually, 
you know nothing.
nothing!
about triumph and victory 
for though the world has plunged into calamity,
you were never one with the army.
your bright eyes has seen death
but only from the sidelines.
you defile the purpose of your armor
by keeping it perfectly polished
when it is meant to be stained by mud and blood.

you told me that you were just playing it smart.
you said that it's only rational, logical, 
the normal human response
to take every measure to avoid pain and harm.
you behold the chaos
and cry 
"they are fools!"
and
you are 
perfectly
right.
they made themselves
into proud and shameless fools
for they know well that 
the fools are the ones chosen to shame the wise.

darling, 
just
stop
playing it nice, safe, an smart
for this is not a game,
this is 
war.
strip off the crown and ball gown and
pick up your sword and armor.
from your high tower,
run
to the mountains and fields
to the homes and cities
run
to the trenches and frontlines.
for it's either you lose your self or lose the fight

soldier,
warrior,
get ready to pour out sweat, tears, 
and even blood.
though you have yet to see
still,
claim victory:
the war has already been won
before it has even begun.

*it is
done.