Knees

The night is young so are we possessed of the charm of magazines

The night is broad we hear its siren song on repeat

It says, "Taste my tastes your own way-move and feel as you please-but my demands

will drive your days all the way to your knees."

Day is long without change-clock's wrong eight hours a day

Waiting for the sun to punch out-becoming something we can't figure out

"Swallow me when you breathe"says the day,

"Think of me when you leave" humming to itself while you're whistling

City stands beneath it all-city never sleeps

As we go back and fourth between bills and dreams