September 10, 2014

I say I'll be home by eleven

My self-proclaimed restriction

Is always faithfully broken

Deep in the hours of the stars


Though my head grows weary

My heart remains steadfast

Unmoved by the dizzy lids

Falling heavy over my eyes


I crave detatchment, solitude

A sober-drug found only in

The shades of gray painted by

Clouds tucking the moon in the sky


The father I drive, the tauter the rope

The tighter my chest, the smaller my hope

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