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Morning, Noon, and Night

I am not yet mad or comatose.

I know where I am and who you are.

I have not mistaken your dog for a cat,

Or the local bus for a Morgan sports-car.


Still, I slur my speech and roll my gait.

My movements freeze - I hesitate.

But I understand English and Sterling, too.

This boy's not ready to abdicate.


A Werewolf inhabits our attic,

A Zombie writhes under the bed,

A Vampire infiltrates our cellar,

A Martian parades in the shed.


Yet you have no cause to worry -

For I am a fountainhead.

Master of their universe.

Knight of the Living Dead.

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