I'm isolated and forced to live bored
I think of talking to my friends,
but are they really?

I don't talk to them much,
we just know each other,
do they really think I'm a friend?
I'm practically a stranger now.

I lose friends more than I gain.
I can't socialize, I can't talk
I always call them my friend,
but what does it feel like to have one?

I want someone to talk to
someone who knows nothing about me.
Someone who knows me.


Maybe a penpal could work...

Please send me a letter.
I’ll open it up
And smile
As your handwriting graces my eyes,
And your words smile back at me.

You've got mail

Is it weird that I want to hear that again

Not
you have a notification

but mail

Waking up and running to the mailbox
heart pounding with excitement and fear

is your letter here yet


That one thought
everyday
carrying my little legs
racing
in the hopes that I would see your handwriting

and when that letter finally came

like a squirrel with a prized nut
I race away to the safety of my bed with
a flashlight
some poptarts

and pages of your letter

So happy



that I have a friend like you.

my faraway friend
in every note you send
I find your smile

We met through proximity,
but didn't use that to convene.
We learned so much about each other through a screen,
But we've let each other truly be seen.

With our many shared interests,
and our vastly different pasts,
help us clearly see our paths.

How enchanting this has all been,
to now call you a friend.

I wish I could do more, but here i am stuck on the other side of the screen
Feeding you words of comfort, trying to ease the pain
tapping keys on my keyboard, trying to keep you sane
And I know that when you receive it- it might seem plain

My sympathies written in text are sincere to me, but how about on your end?
Will my feelings be carried out when I tap send,
Or would it just be empty bland sentences plastered onto the chat box?

It ***** to know that we could exchange thousands of words, but never the compassion behind them,
We're connected yet at a discord when it comes to expressing onscreen emotion

The road was long and rough
It was a passageway of words
A parade of letters and prose
The touch of invisible pleasure
I moulted like a snake in season
I dreamt on a cruiser of reign as we
opened my pandora box in the cave

The road was smooth and right
It was a third eye paradise of seers
A mire of misery and blowing wind
The tears flew like fireflies on heat
I met the shrinks of souls in salt bed
I waved the rain as it washed my sins
On that sight of the pandora box

The road of wrongness and rightness
It was an unfolded augury of life
An awakened sleeper roared in dreams
The days when I touched the skies
I took the broken house and mended
I saw the clouds as bright as crimson
Inside the box when I met my twin

The road of love, lust, love, longness
It was when the ember coal was wild
A blaze of soul collision and resonance
The days when doubt taunted in mazes
I wrested my mind and the heart knew
I tested the precipice and intuition led
Inside the unconditional pandora box  

The road where I hid and felt alive
It was a paradise of shining trees
A place where our loneliness merged
The safest heaven on barren lands
I saw my warrior and he shielded
I sat as he ran away with fear and pride
On that very opened pandora box

The road of unforgotten forever
It was a triangulation of continents
An immersion of difference and indifference
The open table of a scarce connective mess
I shed my naive bed and hardened
I shut the wild untwisted world
On that very inevitable pandora