Discontent

The world is content

Staggering and grinning

Whistling songs in the sunlight.

There is life

In every empty room.

Every dog resting by the fire.

All the smiling children in the park.

Every ant scrambling across the sidewalk.

There is no denying

That this desire

Intoxicates every fool.

But,

To scream at the night sky without a reason.

To write words senseless to a scholar.

To scribble on every blank page

Knowing none will see, but scribbling nonetheless.

Writing message after message

Without as much as glancing at a bottle.

To walk beneath every towering streetlight

Dimly spraying light upon the road.

Under the flickering traffic signals.

Beneath the ethereal light of the full moon.

Without even the lightest brush

Of daytime's breath brushing against your neck,

Or morning's cold finger drifting down your spine.

That is to love.