when I close my eye sockets

my mind goes into a world of lucid

dreams, and takes of like rockets

into outer space, were I'm suited

to explore the wonders of new galaxies

reaching the outer limits of thought

causing me to create new strategies

that make my mind unable to be caught

by the speed of light, or the speed

in which space expands, causing me to awake

and to burn these thoughts into paper like weed

like "Bob was baked like a fucking cake"*

and from the thoughts of my mind with in

a new writing of poetry to begin





*from the book perks of being a wall flower