Warriors Never Sleep

A prosetry exercise in nonsense… for some.

Warriors Never Sleep
                        by Odin Roark

How subtle his pen
Barely moving from
Left to right
Opinion to fact
What if to perhaps

Words these were

How relaxed my hypnotic state
Fingers inner-laced atop my irregular breathing state
Sounds emitting from reluctant lips
Fearful to ride the expunged air
To reach his ears

Might they be heard as betrayal?

Jesus how I’d learned the Id’s instinctual power
The super-ego’s warrior-quest of protection
And the Ego
That mediating a*****e’s reality check

Were I but parroting conscious experience
Or was the roll out of sounds
A regurgitation of my subterranean privacy
My lair’s howl
The warrior-protected part of my mind

The only part left
It seemed

At least that was the shrink’s opinion

Oh how he tried
Oh how the pen did perform its dervish moves
It’s tapping cadence
It’s lip massage while waiting

All the while

That look of understanding
I hated that

Father
Grandfather
Mythical sage
All in one

The b*****d

But hey

Choices were few
I’d murdered three people
So I’d said

The state wanted to find out
Was it true?

Ask Mr. Id
I’d told them

And asking they were doing

The 10-9-8-7
Finger snap
The endless drill of endless sessions

Eyes open

His pen raised
Clock showing straight up
Session over

For now

Taking the hand of my warrior
He winked
We shuffled out