Doctor Sleep
Your Doctor Sleep has company of me
His lost relativity to be relevant of time now lost history
Best if he keeps count of me his biggest regret
Language unspoken but I see in ancient dialect
Shall we dance of tongue in conversed remedy
His trauma restraints be my orderly afternoon tea
Prescriptions already written to medicate
To be or not to see that I dictate lines to dilate
His personal space now becomes my open place
Release your grip on mental walls to partake of three versed sign
What do Grandmothers sing as I take prayers away from mind?
Christian songs that make Pennywise dance beneath our bed
Does his head move in jagged lines while the body remains of lead
Is he inflating balloons to block ears of all those naughty words we said
Doctor please assign your childhood response guide for my grand tour
Memories deep in buried tragedy shall be displays of his self saboteur
Crimes of denial putting ourself on trial seems all so elementary
Inner-city demons of that Manchester by sea
What guilt lay within illusions of progressive ideology
Jury duty of children judge the guilty to our enemy without apology
Incognito apparitions show of his self defeat
Remove the title and reveal to me your suit be just skin deep
Row my boat down softest stream in dreaming waves of hands so clean
Step to me at the edge of sea the cliffs we pledge to let go our sinking feet
Incantation violations every first thought I retort in responsive beat
Deviate his emotional cognitive soliloquy to float with me on sleeping tranquillity
Institutions we graduate with honours to fear awarded our lifetime mentalist patient
Windows we check before bed always seem open in moments fear
No sleep for our Doctor, his life coursing offline with no wheel to hold or steer
Binding to pain his childhood flavoured torture Teddy Bear
Building repositories to deposit his depravation chamber of memories
Recode the misappropriation of painted portraits to art as life’s treasury
Sleeping swings of axes like burning candles of metronomes
Keeping count in lovely gardens of gargantuan gnomes
Doctor Heart be so smart his life be pruning those overgrown frequency tones
Life as a house born from dorm room wars to be of recognised awards
The good Doctor the University fame of science halls
Laboratory lavatory his old mates lab coat still hanging on furthest back door stall
Ears ring of cat scratching posts fine tuning view of cascading spectrograph waterfalls
I impersonate the good Doctors interpersonal spiralling post traumatic fractures
Personality constructs held to projector slides profile restyled captures
Distortions of two in stereo view does Doctor now see through
Ceremonial climax in mind cycling the Apostles of oceans blue
Minds interstellar perpetrator death rolling Alligator in a straight jacket
His self soothing trauma response be hugging himself in that safety blanket
My carousel spins every cognition of your wall art machination
Shall we close minds together and let light create imagination
The fear of the unknown creates anxious moments to re-conjure
Rise to me that ever repeating melody memory of your first patient non responder
Stay to play in my keep of night terror where we bleed our dreams to the hollow
Camber chambers like church organs holding Sunday morning of all your sorrow
Are we losing our best in thoughtful streams of our pristine Harley Quinn
Dressing dolls on turning poles in fear to evolve long term mannequins
Our Doctor Jekyll stands trial as judgement presides
Opposing council to leading with scandals that externalise his Mr Hyde
Moral monuments seen on time display in open caskets of his Frankenstein
Down in my keep still Doctor Sleep?
What voices speak as we lay with madness in this mental chaos cell
Those who make the very bed we lay our weary head come with price tags on to sell
Counting sheep turns cost counting of sacrifices that pay our salary
Habitual inhibitions shown in extroverted open exhibitions of my hanging gallery
No deeper goes keeping secrets we hide under hats in gift shops without a phone
Where no human mental wellness truly resets the time we left that befell homes
Follow the shadows that echo my moving soul down the old road
No faces to men of Windsor found down the old Priory tree toad
Melting faces in places where fear beats all moves of chess
Following you in halls to grieving lab coats around hospital beds
True snake wraps this tree of apricots shaped like a pear
Don’t hide from me in your mind mazes that I can remake in dark places
I will find that cheese before we circle back on our detective retraces
Time wants but never needs of just one friend
For you and I exist always in blank spaces of the pendulum
World story teller in three daughter Tommy Knocker tombs
Appointed each burial sermons to areas in your old waiting room
Penalties of severity those who pull at any ceremony of Anun
See me in every dream you sleep Doctor Neat
Does one still study peculiarities of human feet
Majesty of inner galaxies be purpose by design
See those launched satellites orbit the conscious mind
Always vacancies here in memorised lines to hide his Mr Hyde
Merchants of mannerisms these behaving gentiles of old style
Writing observational humour to dear death newsletters his universe of Gomer Pyle
Thanking Dr Jekyll for his hospitable contributions to another small step on the path for mankind
Don’t let time be a placebo pill for all us who stood by that pool
Mistakes of tidiness over tardiness ever the obsession of becoming fools
Tell me Doctor do they still pinch at the nerve in the unbearable silence of night
Long drives through life avoiding these reflections of oncoming headlights
Lights that fly like fireflies in his rear view of life gone by
Never truly do they leave how they form in row on back seats with eyes of loving child
Life to love is life well done, no need to decompile
The code is as humanity would say a true definition of perfectionism
Only limitation be our own imagination
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If one would lament on things Doc, all those excuses we assign to wasting time. Like the love that eminates from all our lovelies, time the present and the constant. True measures indeed.
Irony perhaps our greatest nemesis in the attainment of wisdom for love is where our happiness always be true
Only at the end of this tale does life reveal the simplicity we quantify to categorise our inner mind to ground or fly our Mr Hyde, or mistaking pride for an overpriced steak with fries. The equations of life to examine and modify be they far too often in variation to minimise something more precise.
These complexities we introduce in our lives almost seem illogical, confusing wants with needs. Assigning value to time is just so bizarre, our most precious of things. No art or car be ever more valued. And it be always there right in front of us
Time be priceless.
