Role Playing Game

You're the boy with sunburnt eyelids
With his patience wearing thin.
You're the jerk with good intentions
And you've got a thicker skin
     thicker skin than last time and
     you've got a chance to win.

She's the time of day she never gave
She's half past 9 at night.
She believes in proper fairness,
But she's unwilling to fight
     fight and argue with her conscience
     for the sake of "half-way right."

I'm the note you left unfinished
Under lazy, clicked-off pen.
I suppose I'll wait for later
To finish saying what needs said.
     "What needs said," read sunburnt eyes,
     "is, half past 9, I should be back again."

Drunk Dial

Dial "D" for drinking, delving
     deep into the night
Something sough in speech and thought
     between these cloudy pints
Early springtime midnights come to
     mind; they're just like this one
Pensive breezes
     And brains buzzing, spinning
At 33 rotations every minutes in my kitchen.

You've dialled "S," you're seated
     at the bottom of a hole
Seated just where I was sitting
     back when I was just that old.
You think you're drawn and quartered
     (well, you're clearly being pulled)
Ablutions aren't easy
     But I know they're necessary
In these sorts of situations if you really want relief

So, dialing "L" for late nights, losing
     sleep beneath the porch light
You can linger on your litanies,
     mop your words out of your mouth
Until they pile up on the floor.
Then you can find your way and wade out
     or just sit and soak them up.

So it's dial "C" for chugging coffee
Building coffins, catching colds.
For cogitating childish thoughts,
For ceding sleep while growing old.