loneliness
is a misunderstanding
of what together is
a feeling we need someone
to complete us
in truth
people are a pain
in the ****

Who is that
I see?
Some reflection as strange as me.

Too frightened to
Be alone.
Overcome by a sad tone,
Overwhelming,
Overgrown.

But
Who is this?
Who have I become?

No one.

A fact of a stranger,
Looking through the mirror.

Uncanny,
A weak figure.

But alas,
That is me.

And I,
Have withered.

I've been exposed.
Many have witnessed me,
And more have noticed it.
The ones I taught to use a spoon,
Tie a lace, ride a bike,
Arise from a fall.
Those whom I've instructed
On when to listen,
When to question.
They've acquiesed to the knowledge.

The colleagues I once cornered with
In serious situations;
When our decisions effected others' paths;
Those who recognized my signature.
They've acquiesed to the knowledge.

I meet less often with friends.
I ask for less favours, and return fewer.
I don't stand holding meaningful conversations,
Sipping strong drinks.
I wear a cap indoors sometimes  (I once condemned this).
But, here you have it.
They've acquiesed.

I'm on my own now,
Hoping my memories are real and are mine,
And my ideas are new and genuine
(I change my mind a lot).
I seldom check the weather;
I've cancelled my cable (and this is a milestone).

I've enroled in a new world order.
Ask anyone you can find around here.
I no longer run the world.

The feeling of neutral,
Is bleak and bland.

For I cannot fathom
This life of random.
This feeling of doom,

It is present
Yet seldom.

It is static
And paralytic.

I feel erratic.

Yet I am calm,
Content.

But my mind,
Unresponsive,
Perhaps braindead.

My sanity,
Decreased
To the thinnest thread.

As this feeling of neutral,
Has emptied my head.

How many hands will I hold?
How many will I have to let go?

He lived down the street from us,
And came to be known as,
The man whose wife left him.
We speculated and surmised.
None but two knew the reason why
He became
The man whose wife left him.

He stopped cutting the grass
And weeding the beds.
He won’t play his uke
On the porch like he did.
From all accounts,
He was a good Dad,
None ever heard him
Explete a foul word.
He worked till retired,
Never was fired.
I'm told he lived a gentle life;
Never started a fight,
Or ran from strife.
That's what I heard
About the man whose wife left him.
Left to his own devices,
The man whose wife left him,
Left.

Her shield, displayed,
Shunned errant knights.
The force field, impenetrable!
She was armadilo-like, but
No soft underbelly.
No teddy bear arms.
She endured a hard day.
Me, a soft night.
I strayed on my mini pad
Till her light turned out.
I lay on my side,
Beside her,
In another Romantic tale,
In a galaxy,
Far, far away.

i don't live in black and white
i only see through faded gray lenses
a clouded picture of what is reality

a forgettable moment here, a wasted opportunity there
i am surrounded by moments of dulled memories

my emotions are at rest
but they live in my head
dragging me down day by day
eventually i will stumble and fall
and i do not know if i will get up again


i see the world through a polaroid camera
where everything present is also the past
things that are often memorable
just slip through my purple hands

no one understands
why i never had a chance
to feel something, anything

i am treated like a nobody
cause nobody wants to get to know me

do i come off as vile,
hiding my pain and faking my smile?
i'm giving it everything i got
to be what people want
it has led me nowhere except deserted roads
where i'm greeted by that cold familiar friend
the demon that lives within

there is a void from within my chest
cause sacrificial love is dead

i have tried so many times but to no avail
i cannot fill it up with friends
no one cares enough to even give a flying f--k

this emptiness inside, it might just consume me whole
the longer i go deprived, with no one at my side
the stronger it gets, the harder it gets
it feels like i'm merely trying to survive
this hell we call earth