These Eyes Have Grown Tired Of Complacency

I promise hollow words to deaf ears
I say things like ‘the sun will explode tonight’
So I sit on cold steps, face pressed west
Pocketknife in hand, carving lost stars

But the fog rolls in thick from cold rivers
Dances madly on brick walls
These clouds have put
This city to it’s
Bed

And I long for that brilliance
That explosion of bright chaos
That quiet build up of
Lost passion

These eyes have grown tired
Of quiet nights on steps
Of cloudy days on streets
Of no balls of flame inside
Those eyes

I sit with an anchor in my pocket
Gnashing heart pressed tight to chest
“burn, burn, burn” it says
Before I learn
Complacency