Pass for Pass

I can’t help but pass for pass
Braids through my busy hands.
Knotted long and fast to the heads
Of dusty pillars, scarcely clad
In dancing heroes and native clowns.

Every time I look or blink, another
Swift affection unstitches long
Smooth plans. Popular complicity
No longer applies to me. Only
In fear, I softly, simply go down easy.

Slip into song pockets and poetic knots.
Otherwise, ravelling storm headed
Hours chip chip away, go native.
I can’t help but wake five times a day.
Who demands so much, more than sleep?