friday kinda

that was tricky so i made it too easy.
my fault,
i like the slick and safe; what I've done before,
rather than some thicket and a dull machete
but sleeping was boring was sleepless and tired
and rolling slow and sure in my wake less thought,
a loop of what i should have done,
circling to show me the casualties with no hope of resuscitation
so its black
and hands in a dream caress my face,
lighter then softer the suns repetition
bringing morning and hope
a breath for the wicked who run
a chance for a coward who's never known
but wants to