I'm writing this while you're passed out on the couch,
Hoping the clicking of these keys won't cause your breath to catch
And your stormy eyes to fly open,
You restless, high-strung boy.
You're an eagle who is afraid of heights.
With the most beautiful wings and
The most piercing eyes you stare at the sky,
Waiting for the perfect moment.
But you don't know that life cannot be planned.
You cannot measure love, put a limit on hope or
Estimate faith.
But you. Stubborn, stubborn you,
Will attempt to find the ultimate equation
No matter how exhausted you become.
No matter how many sleepless nights come as a result.
I look down the rising and falling of your chest,
The small crease between your brows,
And I know you're scribbling a hypothesis
In some bizarre, ****** up dream.