The Poet Upon Entering Heaven
Roused. Leave me weeped, for the weepers have.
I have stood somber vigils at your feet mad
that you secured an exit while I just stood tense.
Now I'm granted a room for myself?
A door in the partition, the key on my neck? Well,
I refuse. My memory rebirthed the inhabitants.
And rightly so, let no strangers be allowed in my Paradise!
Knock and knock, I am content to suck my ice,
Tasting my last White Russian, hints of cream, foggy
Surely there's a reason for this prison I hate.
Before I was not wont to somnambulate
but perhaps I will take up the hobby.