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.