To be alone
Is to be complete

They say
No man is an island,
But isn't everyone?

We're all stranded on islands of self-interest
Connected to others
Through flimsy bridges of temporary alliances
Mutual interests and gain

The more connected we are
The more isolated we become
Pictures and blog posts
Nothing more than facades

Anomie is the word of the decade

The individualistic
The self-sufficient
Is reviled
For refusing to play the game
To participate
In the masquerade
To jump through the hoops
Of social niceties

Somehow
To sit and squirm
Through ******* contests and gossip
To flap and flutter
In the howling gales of hysteria and contrived laughter
Is preferred over
Sitting alone
Revelations and epiphanies
Splayed out before oneself
Playing solitaire with one's reflections
In peace

Baby showers and mixers
Celebrated
The impenetrable silence
Of one's hermitage
Eschewed

The people-pleaser
Preferred
Over the lone wolf
The team player
Over the independent agent

I suppose
In an age of open doors
A locked one
Raises a few eyebrows
They'd knock and rattle
Then bang and kick and shout
Before leaving in a huff

Authenticity is now the rarest commodity
Valued over saffron and platinum
So people settle instead
For knockoffs

Alcohol-plied sincerity is better than nothing
A China-made Rolex still looks better --
Flashier, if nothing else --
Than a Timex

No man is an island,
They say,
Smirking
Frowning
Clucking with disapproval
Peering behind perfectly schooled masks
Nary a hair out of place
Looking at me
In all my artless imperfection
Paper, pen, and cigarettes for company

Well
Which of us here
Is truly alone?

I smile a little when you walk past
My already ***** eyes turn to slits
When our eyes meet
When you flash me a shy smile
I also crack a little inside
Knowing
Remembering
Here is another denied you

The smile I give back
Is true
The veneer of confidence I exude
Is not.

The toil of pulling my smile down
Shallow enough
To look friendly
Of keeping my gaze brief
Fleeting enough
To appear formal
Gets heavier by the day

I'm biting my tongue off
As you skip away
Humming
Smiling
Into the dazzling light

While I sit here and write my shallow poetry

These are the end times.

Judgment is coming
For our iniquities and apathy
For the ****** of the unborn
For worshiping money
For voting Democrat
For buying non-biodegradable products.

Or so they say.

I don't enjoy discussing
Or even hearing
About eschatology
When and how and why the world will end
Which is what seems to pervade the air at home
Every time the conversation suffers an unfortunate lull.

Some cathartic culmination
Of a Deity's wrath
No doubt for all the
***, drugs, and rock & roll
Humanity indulges in
On a daily basis.

Hearing about the end --
Demons born to women
Automatons wearing human skins
Talking animals
Seems so redundant.
The signs had been here all along.
We've been living with them for ages now.

What if
Instead of a violent, sudden cataclysm,
The end comes
As an implosion
Drawn out over billions of years?
What if the second law of thermodynamics
Is the prophesy
Doomsday prophets overlooked?

There are no aliens coming
To **** and subjugate this planet:
We're already here.

This is the end
We've been simmering in it
Fighting and spitting and cursing
In puddles of our filth and hate

The end has been unfolding
For the past few millennia
As humanity continues to multiply
Like rats beneath New York.

And here we are
Making plans
Getting married
Hoarding money
Getting **** drunk
Too busy preventing
The little apocalypses
Of our petty lives.

We're planting gardens
In the shadow of a warhead.

We all saw it coming
We were just too busy to care.

My world's already ending
In bits and pieces anyway
At random intervals

Every time I let someone in
And she inevitably leaves
Taking a piece of me with her
My sun dies in agonizing degrees

Even a quiet infatuation
Eats away at me
Crumb by crumb.

All those theories about the end
Forget them.
I'm living my own apocalypse
And surrounded by human-sized
People-shaped versions
Of the Four Horsemen
So shut up already.

Tonight, I've finally found you.

Your radiant beauty of a hundred summers
Is to me
The crushing despair of a thousand winters
One look at you
And I'm jonesing for a cigarette
One look at him
And his arm around you
And I need a shot of gin
To go with that smoke.

The lamb we ate
Was like broken glass
The salad like weeds
Naturally, I had to have seconds.

It's not fair.
I was already alright.
Having a ball.
And you just had to come ruin it.
Now I'm pining again.

This sliver of a woman
Willowy legs
Billowing auburn hair
Quiet hands

Gliding past
In fluid steps
Breaking bones
With feather touches
Of her eyelashes
Sighing velveteen butterfly kisses

My unspoken adjurations
Meet nothing but the
Silent grandiloquence
Of a raised brow

She will never be mine
So I force a smile
And dream some more.

Dear girl in white
With a pearly smile so bright
Shiest smile that shines for a mile
Reflects a purest spirit that holds no guile

(With a whiff of your soft hair)

Beautiful girl in white
Beholden I am by your sight
How I long to call you mine
On your supple flesh will I dine

(With a glimpse of your legs so bare)

Precious girl in white
Glad will I be to hold you tight
To gaze into your demure eyes
Until the flare of agony in me dies

(You make my heart aflutter)

Smiling girl in white
You make me feel just right
But how shall I hide my soul from you
Horror not even the gods can undo

(And tear my heart asunder)

Virginal girl in white
Praying by the crucifix every night
At this sight my fervor falters
The rosy illusion of you shatters

After countless battles,
We've finally gotten married.

Ours was not a lengthy engagement
If there was even one to begin with.
A long courtship, though.
Skirmish after bloodbath after slaughter
Fighting trolls and giants and the undead
We were comrades
Brothers in arms.
And then a quick confession
A purchased home
That was it.

Now we sleep in on weekends
Slowly wake to the cool darkness of the room
Make love with sleep still frosting our eyes
I serenade you in the cold evenings with my battered lute
As you tend to the crackling hearth
Before tending to my gashes and bruises
Earned from the day's clashes.

This must be what Valhalla feels like --
Coming home to you and a hearty stew
After a long day of fighting
Covered in blood
(Some of them mine)
Loaded down with loot.
Doing this for a lifetime seems preferable
To being High King for eternity.

Dragons may be razing the northern wastes
Savage tribes holding sway in the mountains
Rebels and imperials clashing in the plains
But in here
It's just you and me.
Nothing and no one can enter our sanctuary.
Like you said,
Brief as life can be here,
We have each other.

I may be the Thane of your hold
But you are the Thane of my heart.