Silent sighs pour into my coffee
Fingers tap a cigarette
Toes tap to a beating drum
One. Two. Three. Stop.
His eyes shift around the room
Sorting faces with forgotten names
This feels like home
But we all know it isn't
Twiddling thumbs and nervous laughs
Thoughts so random they hardly last
Violent scribbles on fragile paper
Secrets exchanged through rushing whispers
This feels like home
But we all know it isn't
Blank stares and feigned concern
Everyone searching: for truth
Everyone suffering: writers block