Turnover

Langour rises
Reaching to turn off the alarm
And there’s never so much seething
That it can’t be disarmed

You just stop it up, pass it on
Shove it to shelf it, to leave it off
And turnover
Lounging against your weapons

Until your muscles find lock
In the ease of that position
A residue of tremor passes
As some cherie amour suggests

That maybe it was time to smash things up
But just stop it up, pass it on
Shove it to shelf it, to lead it on
And turnover
I’m only sleeping