Idle Hands

It’s really quiet here,
So still and stagnant I keep
details of what I hear,
But I’d rather go home and sleep
on a bed, couch, even a chair,
Hope to God I get a nice dream
of someone I hold dear,
Not much to do here at night it seems,
Just type this thing and take in cold air,
And try to remember all the things
that brought me here,,,
My hands just need to touch something,
Gave it my keyboard since it was so near,
Waiting for the bus to bring
me there, back to nowhere.

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