Everyday is a different situation occurring. This poem reflects that.

Cognitio Autem Silentium

Close the book
I’ve grown bored
Bullets, anger and blood
Nonsense and apathy
Eyes on the road
Hands in your pockets
Ears on the radio
Noise and gibberish.

Half way fallen head
Drooling and snoozing
Might as well be dead
But it’s so cold and freezing
Turn the heater on
The buzzing of the phone
Such a big country
Another run away.

Itching on the flesh
Eyes red and wet
A doctor’s appointment
Repeat the things you’ve already said
Marvel and wonder
Fifteen minutes of fame
Devils crawling under
And the ones they cannot tame.

“Hey”; said the voice in the corner
Just another mirrored laugh
Bloody fingertips
To ask how much it’ll last
To watch it rot and decomposing
The joke’s on you
A marksman patiently staring
He’s part of the play too.

Rake the leaves
Or leave them soaring
Another ant army agrees
Some dark figure figuring
The hand on the knob
Are we ready for what’s behind?
A silent trace of blood
Are we the cozening masterminds?


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