Self-control asleep at the wheel Buried in the kind of task That carries only a sick appeal Back to sleep At arms length Never withheld Anxiety, the lash or the leash Another mouth to feed The sullen sun a soured star Growing to consume It has to be there Dirt under these nails Peel it all away Layer by layer of fear Far from the belonging sought Yet this isolation is a wish Hoping that you'll fall apart Completion a curse run from More selfish pursuits Burying the lead to be