something wicked

by the pricking of my thumbs
something wicked this way comes
something in the postmortem interval
and the shit running down the backs of my legs
something like a wind-up wristwatch
that you aint got the time to wind
do you really have to speak so, so loud
sometimes you seem like you belong in 'eraserhead'
and your mental health always seems to be up in the air
and sometimes i just need a stronger drink
do you ever question the depths of outer space?
to the mortal worms on earth,
infinity's a goddamn motherfucker
and as above, so below.