Content in That

Lonesome was quiet and quite
Content to be
Nothing at all,
To be a cup of good coffee,
A cold day with fluttering
Leaves, choking on a knit scarf,
To be ever in a single
Moment of quiet,
Of comfortable silence.
Lonesome was quiet and quite
Content in that.


My Head is Broken

Whatever will i do with this head of mine,
it thinks of nothing,
no thoughts divine,
and when i come close
to pondering fare,
i sit and wonder,
i sit and stare.
Nothing ever comes easily
in this cognitive lump,
a heap of nothingness,
a neurological lump.
And if it ever decides to spark a fuse,
a thought, an idea,

i shall not refuse.