minus 59, 58, 57, sleep

and tell me all about your dream

at the psychiatrist on the couch i redeem

…. chasing the hare chronometric device in hand

i’m late! i’m late! he flew across the land

the members of the band dressed up in yellow tuxedos

awaiting to play sweet music, well orchestrated

all eyes on the meastro  super concentrated

baton in hand, forcing, guiding, pacing the right speed

a lot of strings, untangled – for now – indeed

a tune pops up in my head: the walrus and the carpenter

the walrus, young at heart, wearing a white jersey

swallowing all black-yellow striped oysters, showing no mercy

like a beast

untill there are none

while i am the one

preparing the feast

suddenly the musical squad fellows are wearing speedos

their mohawk hair spraid yellow

kakafonic punk music deafens me

a jolly rotten vibe posesses my body

the crowd starts to pogo

i do want to dance but i’m not asked

my feet are moving anxiously, my shoelaces tied together

57, 58, 59, wake up to reality

guards assist me in my yellow straight jacket back to my cell

all is well

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