Its frightening how
being alone and being lonely
are not the same.

A wise Greek spoke of a cave
and a fire in the back of our minds
with lips pressed to our palms
casting shadows of false reality
and puppeteers with hidden strings
and chains that sit
comfortably on scathing skin.

We were born in the cave.

I've come to realize
I am not the same person
at three o'five AM
and half past eight.