On Loneliness


Loneliness is sitting in the cell of your own body


Hearing the softened sounds from the neighborhood alternately float in and out

Like some kind of old radio

You can hear the faint laughter or warm conversation

But you don’t feel any of it because you are living in the prison of your own, lonely being

Sometimes, eyes glazed over and numb, you find you’ve wandered into the home of Depression

Then back again into the familiar ache of a heart that feels like some kind of broken stone, cracked in the deepest places

Only you know it can’t be made of what it feels like,

Because stone doesn’t feel

But you do

Sitting there in your fleshy skin and heavy bones

No plans

No one to call

Ah, you could, you know

There are people who care, which makes it all the worse

The shame that bears down slamming you for just not having it in you to

Get the fuck up

Pick up the phone

Do something

Perhaps we are in the House of Depression again, though the two share a door that never closes

What does it matter?

And then, isn’t there always One?

That one you ache for that you hardly let yourself think of

Because the impossibility of that fantasy is crippling

It is another New Year’s Eve

I can taste my loneliness

I feel it wrap it’s Nothing arms around me and squeeze

But the tears don’t spill over because they are trapped in my cracked, stone heart

This Lonely “I”

Tried to love you a thousand times
But I gave too much of myself away
Been scrambling like a maniac
To get all those precious pieces back
Slow-going though
(And some decayed)
They tell me out of rotten things…
Yeah I’ve heard that out of death?
A brand new Something’s born again
Better than what’s left
I wonder though – about those pieces
The ones I’ve tried to grasp
And breathe life into once again
Make meaning of my past
Is it worth it when I’m so alone
While my heart just hopes and hopes
Going on and on like It don’t see
The rope around my throat
I tried to love you a thousand times
And a thousand more than that
Was I doing Love all wrong?
Have I given This for That?
I have no answers as I move
There are no fairytales, methinks
Oh, what a crushing childhood lie
No prince
Nor knight
Nor one true love
But only this lonely