At Night

It’s late
And I’m alone,
After a weekend
of hearing bones
rattle and roll.

I need the TLC,
the nourishment for the soul.

When my hands curl up
I’m in a place no one can drag me from,
And the tide
That I’m riding
Takes it’s sweet time to lay me down.
So when I’m laid on my back
I’ll groan as I drown
In this emotion that just
has
to come out.

But it’s a Sunday now.
I’ll go hungry for another week
Claw the walls
As my mind chases itself round the room.
Like the weekend,
I can’t wait for it to come so soon.