Work to be had 

hard work to be done

spent all the time

tasting no ounce of fun

Brought back to now

wipe fear off brow

Not nearly enough  to till

skin stretched taut

rushed hot hush hush

Cry of dream day

lined by and of these

the melancholy could squeeze

each drop

tasteless its not

for salt to purge

cleared festered urge 

of hurt and itch 

will not can not do 

what choices made would for you

Keep close we run

through one by one

to spill and spread

chase out dread

some spindled line

draw my sight 

placed here

night after day

it come my way

and settle

On chest on head

bloody rest

negligent hope 

avoidance at best

Rise beseech to see

at my side

Ride I write ride