Gotta get my head straight.
Upon which, sits
A seven star grey bed
And upon which, sleep
Seven star dreamers.
Four bags of beans,
A blanket sewn green,
And some black boxes
Of odd measure.
Some nights, I don’t remember
If I slept with a gun under the pillow
Or the glittering hopes of
Seven starry lifetimes.
It’s weird how confident
The black leather jackets
Seem to be, despite
The funny absence of warm winters.
And then of course,
There’s the orange & black monkey
Who has nothing better to do
Than devour my sunlight.
Everything pretends to be
Immersed in stillness,
Yet dancing shamelessly
With the music of the spheres.
That fantastic room
In the middle of nowhere,
Upon which, sits
A seven star grey bed
And upon which, sleep
Seven star dreamers.
