The Quiet
staring at the ceiling
with no ryhme or reason
dreaming up tales
of high seas and high treason
i ponder my nothings
in the Quiet
speculating about time
and life and romances
planning my life
like coreographers plan dances
i plot out my course
in the Quiet
praying for my sins
and for errors and vices
for forgiveness of past
and present enticements
i make my amends
in the Quiet
babbling nonsense
'bout liquor fed streams
thinking about our skins
and how we're made with no seams
i throw all sanity to the wind
in the Quiet
now nodding my head
i drift near to slumber
where i'll dream first of love
then of armies torn asunder
i now lay vulnerable and sleeping
in the Quiet
Copyright © Joshua Aguire | Year Posted 2008
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