Sundays

I know I signify more to you than stability alone

Like august in a midwestern state:

Full of grace and half-broken bones.

You're falling over your own unfortunate songs.

You can soak in all the sun you want, but it won't burn away your home.

You're so close to changing forever and I'm too close to my family to notice.

This year had better make me a new man.

This liar could reach out and find me.

I don't look up to enough local heroes…

I still don't feel inspired enough to change.

You'll leave me more than a martyr would ask for

With civil service and my conscience to blame.

I'm sorry I made you lose focus.

I didn't think you slept enough to dream

Of a never-ending need to follow and a never-ending need to try and persuade me.