poems

I live asleep on my feet,

Traipsing in the dream room, 

Alone except for a dog, 

The they themselves whisper from afar, 

I suppose no one ever could have 

Known it

About me. 

Except he, as i can finally tell

Is here. 

So it looks like

Quiet on the western front.

A time to be in love.

A time for small,

A time for quiet,

A time to begin

What I've alway avoided,

Scuba diving

Within my

Consciousness

I must

Confront myself.

The trinkling tones

And the spooky vibes

But,

Birdsong.

And I get to

See the dawn,

Everyday.

Better late than never,

This weary soldier wants

Something more than

Scraps

And bruises. 

Someday.