A Poem for my Mom Who’s Son still Pee’s in his Bed

Sometimes my thoughts
embarrass her
like a little kid who still
pee’s in his bed at age 12.
Whose sleep and dreams
are too peaceful
to be tossed away for protocol.

I’m an adult.
I still piss on myself
but in my head.

My mind mentally pisses
a stream of thought
after thought
after thought
into the toilet ears
of normality.

I would rather piss
on myself
and lie
in a urine soaked bed
of imagination
than be disturbed
by the dictates
of social norms.

My mom
however
always blushes
and with her apology worded wash cloth
cleans up my mental mess.