Confined Habit

 

It's the rise of the planets.

Disguise my anthem in rhyme with 'a tantrum of mind.

Phantom of spine.

Phenom above time.

Tension I must unwind with' a mention of divine ascension.

Write a line, perception.

Type a sign, conception with 'a possessed head, erection.

Breast fed to death bed, reflection.

Call me, Quest-head, perfection.

There's no telling what I could do when there's no telling of what I can do.

So I might slide on through with my sight on you.

Going sightly blue from the pipe I blew.

No, hiding my gadget.

Padlocks line my jacket and laptops confine my habit.