The mongoose in the dream's navel

For the nth time i whispered
"got to get out of this mess"
to myself but yet the blisters
on my soul said "don't digress"
i could see a higher heaven
heaving hereditably
but as soon as i would wake up,
it would shake me up and flee


thusly with my fate were brindled
scratches of the days bygone
as if dipped in brine and spindled
with something made from nylon
i want in on the secret answer -
to cheat the sacred trinity
in this game of i life i want to beat
God, myself and the refree.