lonesome
as an island with
waves that roars but no one listens

a legion of people
in a downtown intersection
but I stay afloat in desolation

in the midst of a city hustle
I reclused to move

I defeated myself
and surrendered with the action

I live in a jungle of solitary
like a hermit dancing on the ocean floor

They call me Alfred Prufrock
but this is not a love song.
Oh, halt! he wasn’t writing a love song.