Turn these restless limbs to stone
so I can get a modicum of rest.
Clothe my bones, walk me home;
steady the clamour of my chest.
Blot the stars with a marker pen,
place a ceiling over my dreams.
No news at ten, play remember when,
when the future falls at the seams.
Place all useless guilt in the dirt
so I can finally lapse to sleep.
No three year hurt, I will iron my shirt
and line my pockets deep.
Hide the misery amongst the flowers,
the ash amongst the living.
These early hours, these mythic powers;
find the solace of forgiving.
Pull me from the Ground Zero rubble
so I can learn to stand again.
Be my double, first sign of trouble;
my anchor and not my chain.
Shield the summer from the rain,
let me walk with a peace.
Free from pain, my voice will strain
for the melody of release.
Heave all words of lazy defeat,
throw them to the pyre.
Been white as a sheet, a snowman in heat;
flame of grief turned to fire.
Mask the eye too full of fear,
leave the door opened for the light.
So used to tears, so many years
at the mercy of the night.
Take me from this dead-end breeze
out into the open air.
I am on my knees, these hopeful pleas,
that you will take me there.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 9:39 AM UTC
Turn these restless limbs to stone
so I can get a modicum of rest.
Clothe my bones, walk me home;
steady the clamour of my chest.
Blot the stars with a marker pen,
place a ceiling over my dreams.
No news at ten, play remember when,
when the future falls at the seams.
Place all useless guilt in the dirt
so I can finally lapse to sleep.
No three year hurt, I will iron my shirt
and line my pockets deep.
Hide the misery amongst the flowers,
the ash amongst the living.
These early hours, these mythic powers;
find the solace of forgiving.
Pull me from the Ground Zero rubble
so I can learn to stand again.
Be my double, first sign of trouble;
my anchor and not my chain.
Shield the summer from the rain,
let me walk with a peace.
Free from pain, my voice will strain
for the melody of release.
Heave all words of lazy defeat,
throw them to the pyre.
Been white as a sheet, a snowman in heat;
flame of grief turned to fire.
Mask the eye too full of fear,
leave the door opened for the light.
So used to tears, so many years
at the mercy of the night.
Take me from this dead-end breeze
out into the open air.
I am on my knees, these hopeful pleas,
that you will take me there.
C
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