Catalina's Milky Way Dreams(c) Re- Written 2024 - By The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Shooting Stars and fast moving CarsRumble through the roads of my mindTick-e-ty Tock, the old sounds of the clockSay's it's almost a quarter past nine
The moons surely rising, the stars are a glidingAnd Mr. Sandman is ready to roamHurry off to bed and put your pillow under your headHe might just be visiting you tonight at homeDrifting off to sleep is such a wonderful featAdventures you'll enjoy on your ownMaking new friends on a journey to no endA secrete life that is yours all aloneDon't be afraid of those gobble lee goo'sOr those pirates drifting to sea on their boatsThere's no need to worry there just in your dreamsLike rainbow clouds and cotton candy floatsOh that sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerPlease, don't take my Dreams a wayTo see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way DreamsWe could have so much funUnder an ice cream sun and laugh our time awaySing some M & M songs the whole day longUntil we awake to brand new day
Pluto say's hey kiddo don't get out of bedAs Snakel Puss laughs and says, ah it's OKKKKKKKKPopeye yell's, were gone in a minute after I eat me spinachPoo say's all aboard my Banana Split SleighOh that Sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerWorry not Catalina, we won't take your Dreams a way
To see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way Dreams
Catalina say's, please come join me, on my Milky Way Dreams
There comes a point in life when you get tired of everything. And I do mean everything.
I'm not talking about the kind of tired where you need a nap or a vacation. I'm talking about the kind of tired where you wake up exhausted because apparently sleeping now requires athletic ability.
Every part of me hurts. I wake up in pain from injuries I don't even remember getting. The other day I sneezed and somehow pulled a muscle in my neck. Explain that one to me.
My father used to say, "My boy, I got one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel." When I was younger, I laughed at him. Now I repeat that sentence every time I stand up too fast.
Getting older is a strange experience. One minute you are young and fearless, and the next minute you make loud noises simply trying to get off the couch. Sometimes I sit down carefully like I am lowering ancient treasure into a museum display.
And then there's my mind. That thing has completely turned against me. Between depression, anxiety, medications, confusion, and hallucinations, I feel like my brain is now operated by three raccoons fighting over a flashlight.
Some days I honestly cannot tell if my imaginary friends are messing with me, or if the angels themselves are standing around in Heaven taking bets on what body part will fail next.
"Ten bucks says his left knee gives out while he's peeing." "I would help them with their betting games, but I already penciled in confusion, dizziness, and a complete emotional shutdown for later."
Even my bones sound tired. Every time I move, something cracks, pops, snaps, or makes a noise that sounds expensive. I went to the doctor recently and half the conversation sounded like a mechanic explaining why an old truck won't start anymore.
"Well… your back is questionable, your knees are angry, your stress level is concerning, and honestly we're all a little confused by whatever your shoulder is doing."
Fantastic.
The only thing that still gives me peace is writing. Writing keeps me sane… or at least the closest version of sane currently available to me.
Without writing, I'd probably just sit in a chair arguing with hallucinations and yelling at vitamins.
Actually, now that I think about it, I already do that.
Go figure.
So it's back to repeating my Pop's old time phrase, I got one foot in the grave and the other foot on a banana peel. Hey, when I say that I feel he is standing right there with me. By the way, please don't tell anyone, but I have seen him standing there a few times, laughing is ass off.
Thanks for listening and by the way, I love ya dad.
I'm not talking about the kind of tired where you need a nap or a vacation. I'm talking about the kind of tired where you wake up exhausted because apparently sleeping now requires athletic ability.
Every part of me hurts. I wake up in pain from injuries I don't even remember getting. The other day I sneezed and somehow pulled a muscle in my neck. Explain that one to me.
My father used to say, "My boy, I got one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel." When I was younger, I laughed at him. Now I repeat that sentence every time I stand up too fast.
Getting older is a strange experience. One minute you are young and fearless, and the next minute you make loud noises simply trying to get off the couch. Sometimes I sit down carefully like I am lowering ancient treasure into a museum display.
And then there's my mind. That thing has completely turned against me. Between depression, anxiety, medications, confusion, and hallucinations, I feel like my brain is now operated by three raccoons fighting over a flashlight.
Some days I honestly cannot tell if my imaginary friends are messing with me, or if the angels themselves are standing around in Heaven taking bets on what body part will fail next.
"Ten bucks says his left knee gives out while he's peeing." "I would help them with their betting games, but I already penciled in confusion, dizziness, and a complete emotional shutdown for later."
Even my bones sound tired. Every time I move, something cracks, pops, snaps, or makes a noise that sounds expensive. I went to the doctor recently and half the conversation sounded like a mechanic explaining why an old truck won't start anymore.
"Well… your back is questionable, your knees are angry, your stress level is concerning, and honestly we're all a little confused by whatever your shoulder is doing."
Fantastic.
The only thing that still gives me peace is writing. Writing keeps me sane… or at least the closest version of sane currently available to me.
Without writing, I'd probably just sit in a chair arguing with hallucinations and yelling at vitamins.
Actually, now that I think about it, I already do that.
Go figure.
So it's back to repeating my Pop's old time phrase, I got one foot in the grave and the other foot on a banana peel. Hey, when I say that I feel he is standing right there with me. By the way, please don't tell anyone, but I have seen him standing there a few times, laughing is ass off.
Thanks for listening and by the way, I love ya dad.
Mesmerized by the Dancing of the Leaves
