Strap me up to an I.V.
And let the words flow deep into my blood stream

As everything seems to leave
I cleave to words
Words, words, words

I sit on islands
There are multiple
For multiple deserters
The sand an
Aggravating reminder
That one's loneliness is
One's own issue

Truly, if one were to realize
We are sand
That person would realize the multitude of people around
Instead, individually,
We fall through the hourglass
In a pile of loners
Some, reaching towards others
Others, just proud to be at the top for a bit
Still others are left at the bottom
Remembering what it tasted like
To be at the top,
For everyone to look at you.

The hourglass sits beside me
On the newest island
That I swore never to visit again