© Jaimey Perham 06/18/2012

I wait with the other zombies in a quiet sterile waiting room

My parents sit across from me stricken with nervous faces of doom

The bald head psychiatrist wearing a beard leads us into his tomb

We sit on his sofa, and the doctor’s voice echoes like a sonic boom

He wants to hear my story so I tell it with the pace of a fire alarm

It’s a crisp autumn night as I run to my house from the Indiana farm

Have a quick dinner, go to my room, change, and remove my lucky charm

I get into bed and drift off to space with happy thoughts of non-harm

Forcefully awaken from deep sleep I’m temporally blind by a blue beam

My body floats from my bed and drifts outside through the wall seam

I hover in the air and enter the spaceship reminiscent of a bad dream

I find myself paralyzed lying on a metal slab in a room with a gleam

Two grey aliens with large heads and black eyes look down on me

I try to move, I want to escape, but whatever I do I can’t break free

I see silver devices & beams of light enter my body from head to knee

I pass out as the mother ship flies through space like ships at sea

Awake I find myself in an empty white room feeling kind of sore

I get up from the metal slab and stumble to the small open door

I move through the tunnels and end up in a vast library of yore

Then the two aliens from operating table enter & give me a space tour 

A screen appears on the wall, and images and sound begins to play

The aliens show me their home and story of earth from birth to decay

One of the greys leads me out of the room and into a cargo bay

I awake back in my bed with a memory of an ‘out of this world’ stay

The psychiatrist finishes scribbling in his book & picks up the phone

Two men in white arrive and take me to the mental asylum alone

I am locked up in a padded cell and pumped with medicine ‘to the bone’

No one ever sees me again except in the cemetery at my meek gravestone