Ye Olde Slagge Hēap ~ Tuesday, December 2, 2025

The sheep are counting on me to count sheep
how they rely on me before I sleep
existence dunks a bag of tea to steep

sheep dust the corners of my eyes to sweep
heaps of sand they take to the castle keep
each day, after no sleep, I cry and weep
each night, I pray to God, Little Bo Peep
perhaps will find her sheep lost in the deep

as for me, deep asleep, in faith, I leap
rest assured, the sheep sell sand dust and reap
existential profits foreseen as cheap

charlatan of nightmares, Eugene the jeep
orders the Sandman to buy back my sleep
understanding nothing, fences they leap
nothing to learn about me, friends, I weep
tails cut off, all her sheep, what shall I keep
in this world, my thoughts, but I am a creep
no more friends, no more enemies, I seep
grounded into the soil, little birds cheep

old songs about the Road Runner, "meep, meep"
no more friends, I remember, now I weep

murder Stranger Danger, before I creep
endlessly through this world, no dreams, no sleep

to count sheep before I sleep, if I peep
open my eyes for a moment, barkeep

concoctions wake up my sheep as they leap
over fences, like our Keeshond, I weep
under the dining room table, knee-deep
nothing but grey-black fur, memories steep
tea from Darjeeling, thoughts, I try to sweep

sheep remind me to swipe left, not to keep
holding on to feelings, if once asleep
emotions wake me up, regrets, I weep
eternally a crab, scuttle the steep
precipice of language, say fuck, beep bleep

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