I look to myself for management

like a football team

who’s fans scream for their cup dream

I am in the depths of relegation instead

fans dreams are dead.

I fight disturbed sleep

waking up from bad dreams

screaming booing my own game

and the shame of losing

I am bruising

going into battle like a worn out team of veteran players

I am in need of better management and encouragement and prayers

not a self talk that swears

schizophrenia and autism a toxic mix

and sometimes I cannot help but feel like a dick

another penalty going against me

I withdraw to the stands

the best laid plans

of a team with high hopes and dreams

but I keep screwing up my own team.

I am too inconsistent

Middle table in the conference is too high an expectation

when I meet my friends like fans they don’t understand

and give me a frosty reception.

Give me back my dreams

of being a winning football team

putting four past the opposition

That’s my metaphor and my disposition.