Heads up
it’s a bad moon day
I woke up late
teeth like slate
must be all
the stress I ate
think I’ll choose
another fate
a bell was wrong
the clock was wrung
to zombie state
each crawling heart
and every beat
a guess
too late
and now I want
another gate,
heads up
six-thirty’s eight
and truths can’t wait
like chess piece bait
I want to leave
this course debate
my skin is stung
the locks stay strong
on habit’s hold
too late -
head’s up!
I’m fighting
but without hate
this bad moon day -
I’ll change
my way.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 3rd, 2008 at 9:39 pm and is filed under Situations.