Here I lay in bed
Staring at the stars
The waves are breaking
And the rocks are marching
To the sound of quilting
Lots of quilting in the trees
Ladybugs are screaming
Cursing the names of poets
Ripping wings of themselves
And eating roaches
The ground is moving
Changing colors
I think I'm getting sick
Too much wine
Or a head full of shit
This path is frightening
But attractive at times
I just wish the clowns
Would shut up