We decorate the porch
With flaming pumpkins, spiders, skulls and fear
And no comes to ask for candy?
This gets better every year!
When Push comes to Shove
Ask them where they got their names
Because that’s messed up
Don’t turn off the TV!
Leave the lights on nice and bright.
I may be seeming sleepy
But it’s barely even night.
I’m not a little baby
And my bedtime’s when I say!
Now, this grown-up’s thinking, maybe,
About calling it a day.
It’s Monday so there’s lots to say
But dang, the day just got away
And now it’s done and I’m exhausted
So my monologue is losted.
It’s fun to wonder what would happen
If you loaded all the crap in-
To your day you choose to skip.
For instance, if you let your lip
Let slip the words you mostly smother.
All mankind might be your brother,
But who pushes buttons best?
Supposing that you failed that test,
Or simply opted not to take it?
What if, rather than just fake it,
You admit how up you’re fed
With being one who’s poorly led
Yet blamed for every triumph missed?
Supposing you confess you’re pissed?
Might that spasm of enjoyment
Make up for your unemployment?
Likely not. Don’t make that blunder.
Still, it’s sometimes fun to wonder…
Everything makes sense
Suddenly it all just *clicks*
Which then wakes me up
Music in my head
Never sounds as glorious
When I let it out
Morning’s at seven
I wake up at ten
It’s nearly eleven
Before I begin
To feel halfway human
I need the alarm
To be farther away
Than the end of my arm
I am not asleep
Sleep is not a part of me
Or my ice cream feet
Prithee, Sir, I beg
This boon: Let B-17
Pass the night unplay’d