Standing Still

His best ideas come while on the go

But while standing still he just didn't know

True inspiration, to him, was priceless

As for the truth of his actions? He would not confess...

And he'd invite her over simply to sleep

No sexual agenda did he try to reap

So long as his dreams, she allowed him to keep

He, in her quiet company, did sleep

And when he awoke he took in only her gaze

Then fell back to sleep and woke up in present days

Where the mornings were clear but the romance was dead

And all of the above existed only in his head...

He'd get dressed, attend to business, come and go

But when he'd stand still he just didn't know

In the emptiness between here and there

He couldn't afford to keep turning a square

So he went along happily with the rest of the world

And each girl he passed became just another girl

He found excitement in the smallest of things

But couldn't find his angel, the kind without wings

And when he fell asleep he took in the day

Then drifted into his dreams, and flew away

Away to a place where the romance was alive

And his happiness wasn't falsely contrived

Awaking the next day, day after day

He dulled the pain with music and went on his way

Seeped in through the ears, but went straight to the soul

But when he stood still he couldn't find his goal

Always on the move so that he couldn't be caught

Always dodging the questions that pertained to naught

He got a leg up on the competition with out-stretched arms

Physically unscathed, but permeable to deeper harms

All in all, he was human, and no one outgoing

But when he stood still he had no way of knowing

The magic was fantasy; the chemistry had gone awry

And all in all, he was still just the umpteenth to try

He knew all the wrong people, but all the right places

Had just enough screws loose, but couldn't put names to faces

He woke up early, so that he could stay up late

He believed in freewill, but also in fate

He lived every day like it was his first

And drank up new information with unending thirst

He talked to God, but usually to curse Him

And other than that, he believed they were friends

In the silence he'd imagine some friends for fun

And they'd laugh until his daydream was done

He'd stand up, look around, and decide where to go

But while standing still he just didn't know

He's the kind of person you don't read about in books

But he is one who gets a lot of second looks

His story goes on though, and so does he

And it you don't know by now, he, is ...