A constant struggle for lucidity

In and out of consciousness
Childlike
The waves rock us back and forth at odd intervals
Sometimes violently, peacefully at others
Like a mother who had perhaps three or four too many drinks, certainly much too early
The scent in the air is that of fish, of gasoline, of big men and big ideas

While the Moon hangs low and full,
A single bulb on a pull chain lighting the corners of a slum while the Gold is slowly snuck out the back door

I feel the pain/vibrations of the writhing worm as my hook pierces it
Once, twice, finally a third time
Buddha refusing to plow the fields for the worm's sake

In and out of consciousness
Like a child, like a drunk, like a Man who has lost touch
Dreaming small leaves a Man confused about reality when he wakes

Eyes watch the clock as if it were a liar or thief,
While waiting to call Her
Waiting to call Her at the exact time She said it'd be possible to do so
Does She notice? Maybe

Holding on to the edge, toes curling instinctively
Night creeps in
Drowning me slowly in darkness and I do not notice until it's fully upon me
Fooled like the frog boiled alive

In and out of consciousness
Like drunken sex, like uncertain thoughts
Am I really here?
Is this really happening?
Sure I've met many Women but I've only Loved one

In and out of consciousness
And the capsule slides down my throat with ease