above the cricket beach and peeper reef,
so sad a Mayberry howl.
Repeatedly down the neck.
It is that I now scowl,
agited where should I chill.
Your every cry my heart in night slash kill!
Like a horror movie,
slit-throat gurgled drip, oh
stop I can't breathe I think...
not fair to hear such want in air.
Poor thing, so lonely outside.
That I am here to hear such haunting
is most certainly
And when I got all life examined
as to echoed pain out there ...
it stopped, as if to hear.
Well I sure hope Jung is right
a ghost acknowedge within this night
than agony some pet tin bowl
tired, tied down.
Either way, rest well
my best friend out there, so
close far up away.