Sonnet 8am

Posted: March 23, 2017 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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It’s 8 am, you merkin

Hypnogogic and confused

By frenzied dreams and pineapple inhalations

RTR on the radio

Doona has a hole in it

from when I set myself on fire smoking

 

Captain conehead knocks on the window

When in Albania

It’s 8 am

Tripping out on triptamine

For no obvious reward

Or pallid delusions of greatness

It’s 8am

And I am not getting out of bed

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