I linger on the outer fringe,

Worried to live, of life I cringe,

Too hot to the touch, got singed,

My life begins at the end of a hypodermic syringe…

I have tried and passed on blotter,

It made me dream while awake in color, not hotter,

Better to be out of the head on seawater,

For that I must remain a sea otter…

Insanity does loom,

Bringing with it all sort of gloom,

Climbing the walls of the white room,

Skywriting with the help of a broom,

Might be better off living in a tomb…

Wish this pretty I could print,

Got my service with sprint,

In my eye I have lost my glint,

My belly button chock full of lint…

© ed ~ 4/12/06