Early Dads

A trigger for my brain is a trigger for my heart. Satisfying empty right from the start,if I showed you my intelligence will you still see I lose,sinking in the dead of night in this posttraumatic snooze. Clammy hands can be so deadly scare away the artic prairies,the feel of a mans smack the love of early dads. Clothes hanging on your mattress waiting for a man to stash it. Anywhere we go we won't go home alone. I  found you running in the rain and played with your striking chains. Your attitude was so stern,i loved waiting my turn,your lips so transformed with doubt when I saw her staring about,you are my early dad,you left me like a moronic fad,my explanation of an eternal chat. A trigger for my brain is a trigger for the bar,sexy and colliding like a rising star. Interrogating choices exist in the morning,like a cloud ,gray and storming,to be a feeb is not to be in need,but to be free,endangering the soulful like a paranoid leap.The leap without danger is what we dream,tired of being a drama queen.