That one time it all got too much

there is fire in my belly and it wants to be let out
my desk sits against a window
against the window I have leaned a painting of William S.Burroughs
and in this painting his eyes are red
(against the black and white painting)
and he and I say things with our eyes
I open the top of my head
it is hinged
I reach in and take out the Portable Beat Reader
that is tattered and torn and I sing to him in operatic style

and he likes it and then I stay up for two days writing my novel
while my normal family sleeps so softly
while they all sweet and good take slumber and
create a woman in those dreams
who is not just like me