Counting Crows

Man crying

Pray a little  – but not too far
Listening to a mad man
Sing “Rain King” on radio
My queen at work and I house-hubby
For three whole weeks, rest
On a dorsal-ventral interface
Of spine and mattress
Tearing a little, sanity at odds
Of losing it all
And being a cuckoo in diaper-land
When a man in white overalls
Wipes away your leftovers

I’m still there though
When all that was seemingly lost
Pummel like raindrops – leaving no petrichor
I am the rain king – I cry so often now
My eyes feel like ominous clouds
Always ready for a downpour
And I stand wondering
Would Adam Duritz’s voice
Haunt my ears as I finally lose
My battle with sanity
When the angel of silences
Visits me and I’m a pure vegetable
A carrot pigmented in orange
By the mutagen of saturated apathy
When I’m a lost cause
Looking outside a window
Of a lunatic asylum
Counting crows – and not sheep
Until I find my beauty sleep.


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