Call Me a Lunartic
Sometimes I think sleeping
is entirely overrated,
especially when thoughts come creeping
into me unabated.
From whence they arrive
I'm often surprised and void of explanation,
other than the atmosphere
and strange affiliation.
With whom these letters think I am
some sympathetic host,
as if I'm nothing but their bloody ride
to take them coast to coast.
How dare they arrive inside of me
with no invite from my brain,
they just jump in from where and when
another dimension, place, or plane.
(And yes, I know it sounds insane)
I know it sounds ridiculous
as if I'm crazy as a loon,
but I swear sometimes I think these lines
comes straight down from the moon.
So go ahead, call me a “lunar-tic”
Or don’t hesitate to call me weird,
but letters and words fall free from the sky
landing right between my ears.
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