under the ceiling spins without
anything except caffeine
and a bag of white smoke
like cotton candy
is anyone even keeping track
of how often he blacks out
in the basement wakes
in the middle of the night
wandering around the kitchen
as if sleeping makes me hungry
under the ceiling
slowly getting lower as the night
gets longer until day light seems pointless
to get up for more years of confusion
and fear
under the ceiling he sits
at the base of a tree
in the neighborhood
piling rocks to form
his own private island
under the blue gray ceiling
he knows it will clear
as the night arrives
at least the near full moon
will illuminate the rest of tonight
spent in deep concentration
bumping beats background
under his ceiling whether
cave or sky above
crystal clear in darkness
as if the clouds knew
to leave the spot as quick as
they came back on a reunion tour
of the same sky from all the days before
under the same constantly changing
ceiling until there are no thoughts
locked away as if top secret
government but it's no secret
that the government can be bought
and cannot be trusted
under the ceiling
some will never admit it...
