Finding Comfort without a compass, 

drifting out into the combines of an ocean,

wishing to conform my movements to theirs.

combating my boredom, 

combing my thoughts to compel my complacency.

The hours drift out into the commons,

as the commune of the earlier birds

compose a solemn accompaniment.

Grim skies compounded with common lights 

that shimmy onward with their own complexity.

My own personal commitments complicate my actions

as they compete to hold authority to my mind. 

As I wait comically to crown a victor,

I lose all ability to compute my senses

and fall incapable of coming to.