maybe it’s the societal overload of dopamine
that make moments of stillness so stale, so dry, so unbearably empty
like a clap and an echo in a hollow auditorium
shouting into the void, met only with a reflection of me
Longing for connection
Hand pressed against a pane of glass
ear pressed against a corded phone
in this prison of my own creation
Jan 11, 2024
Jan 11, 2024 at 2:36 PM UTC
maybe it’s the societal overload of dopamine
that make moments of stillness so stale, so dry, so unbearably empty
like a clap and an echo in a hollow auditorium
shouting into the void, met only with a reflection of me
Longing for connection
Hand pressed against a pane of glass
ear pressed against a corded phone
in this prison of my own creation
Request permission to use this poem