The well-oiled clunk of padlocks
slotting smoothly home
for dark to close off
rooms to outside days
and droned opprobrium.

The morning shine that
carries breezes brimmed
with birdsong must await
the sliding click and clack
of opened blackout blinds.

Open to a bundled clump of
tumbled, crumpled, crass,
incessant, prickling,
self-reflective musings
binding me to doubt.

It is this lair wherein I
rest and find the peace of
reign; 'Tis here I manifest as
Father Time to forge a faulty
rise and set with blackout blinds.