I want to stop the sunrise coming over the horizon.
I want the safety and silence of three in the morning (cold as it is)
and I don’t want to look this over in the light of day.
It’s easier to take in pieces with the rest hidden in soggy fog;
to slowly put things together;
to take time to think (uninterrupted) and to breathe (unencumbered.)
The bright light isn’t sympathetic to flaws or mistakes,
details are hidden under the glares of the rays.
It burns the skin on the hands cradling your head (overwhelmed.)
more.bad.poetry 