Do I sleep well? Hell no!
Reason for Morpheus-minus, will-known.
What went down my throat
is what’s causing my reverie to bloat.
My cerebrum’s replete
with unspoken scenes that haunt my dreams.
Therefore: shitty sleep.
I try to scream but freeze, and I can’t emote
stuck in my throat, stuck in my throat.
Stuck in my throat, as with aphasia.
I know there’s a chemical imbalance inside me,
and it’s not caused by the foods I’ve been eating,
but rather from pharmaceutical “dining”…
potassium “compote.”
Argh, argh…!

If I’d snorted a line,
I’d be alert, pert, able to whine.
I might be just a bit on edge…
thoughts would be less remote,
relatively fine.

In cranium’s crucible I fight
the demons that demean dreams’ chances to thrive
like a stout zygote.

To self, a note: “Open your throat!”
But stuck’s my throat…like peanut butter.
As if a succubus were sitting astride me,
needling me, wheedling me, and entreating me
to engage in what can’t be called fine things…
its tongue way down my throat.
Gag, gag…!

Stuck down my throat, tongue down my throat
I can’t emote…aphasia,
thoughts fogged in reverie.
Got a bouleversement from bromide dreams,
giving shitty sleep.

As if I’m in a tempest-tossed drunken boat
and the angry, roiling waves cannot abide me.
But then wakefulness and I take a meeting.
And I put the nightcap nightmares behind me…
go downstairs, cook some groats.