The Novelist

When the ending came I turned around

and said "I've had enough before its over

tell the kids at home where to find the house.

Found inscriptions on the bedside 

where the alarm clock ground my teeth

into a deciding factor of how you'd bury me.

Likewise, I am not afraid to die,

like when you realize that no one can touch the sky.

Both sides of my bed are bending back again,

a corner like a dog ear read it back to just complete you

You never find the time to rhyme another redo.

Can the novelist invest inside a patience 

like a treasure chest.

In subtle rearrangement I decided to forget.