Treasure Island

Gouda Moon


My Ain


Just off the map of known terrain
A nagging itch is in my brain
A leach that swam up through my veins
Thoughts come and go but it remains

Through dust of time it does not wane
Here there be dragons to restrain
It only yields to profound pain
So on the ground my head I bang

Sedate with concrete novocaine
Until my skull filled with chow-mien
A single thought it can't contain
I rest as if I had been slain

Until my wits I soon regain
It jumps behind my eyes again
I tell my friends my sad refrain
They listen to be entertained

This is not singing in the rain
Around my neck this ball and chain
I asked a shrink if it had a name
And from a couch tried to explain

My mental canker like ptomaine
She said I had a psychic strain
And other things that don't pertain
To my advances she abstained

A code of ethics was her claim
But that excuse was not to blame
The truth is because she's so vain
Tried to be nice but was profane

An impulse I could not contain
And as I start to show my bane
She called the cops to my disdain
They felt I had to be restrained

Within a week I was arraigned
I copped a plea deal appertain
Sent me to prison to ingrain
behavior that is more urbane

They let me out when I obtained
A proclamation that proclaimed
I'm qualified to be mundane
But yet I've yet to ascertain

The nagging itch that's in my brain
Just off the map of known terrain

Submitted: Tuesday, August 26, 2014

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Topic(s): insanity

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