Warriors Never Sleep
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A prosetry exercise in nonsense… for some.
Warriors Never Sleep
by Odin Roark
How subtle his pen
Barely moving from
Left to right
Opinion to fact
What if to perhaps
Words these were
How relaxed my hypnotic state
Fingers inner-laced atop my irregular breathing state
Sounds emitting from reluctant lips
Fearful to ride the expunged air
To reach his ears
Might they be heard as betrayal?
Jesus how I’d learned the Id’s instinctual power
The super-ego’s warrior-quest of protection
And the Ego
That mediating *******’s reality check
Were I but parroting conscious experience
Or was the roll out of sounds
A regurgitation of my subterranean privacy
My lair’s howl
The warrior-protected part of my mind
The only part left
It seemed
At least that was the shrink’s opinion
Oh how he tried
Oh how the pen did perform its dervish moves
It’s tapping cadence
It’s lip massage while waiting
All the while
That look of understanding
I hated that
Father
Grandfather
Mythical sage
All in one
The bastard
But hey
Choices were few
I’d murdered three people
So I’d said
The state wanted to find out
Was it true?
Ask Mr. Id
I’d told them
And asking they were doing
The 10-9-8-7
Finger snap
The endless drill of endless sessions
Eyes open
His pen raised
Clock showing straight up
Session over
For now
Taking the hand of my warrior
He winked
We shuffled out
Copyright © Odin Roark | Year Posted 2013
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