for solitude

you're alone, because you're alone
it's your humor, it's your weight, it's your appointment in 7 minutes.
but you're alone, sitting near the wall.
not in the corner, that's where people hide.

and there's obviously something wrong with you.
antisocial, illfitting, blind and deaf
otherwise you couldn't bear it.
being alone

talking to yourself outloud is crazy,
but only so much more than listening to yourself quitely.



sometimes you can't stand them.
it's like they're talking about you, or even worse, to you.

quick, your response. liken it to theirs
before they could think you're different,
make them think you would be just as comfortable sitting at their table.
but wait, what's so wrong with differ...
and it's too late, because you're polite
and now, just like them.
no, i'm not using that chair. go ahead.


after all if you're smiling,
how could anything be hurting you.

and they'll be with you for the rest of the day
in your head, they'll follow you
to your desk, and underneath your sink.
their basketball shorts, their pleated skirts, their keyed lanyards.

if only they could realize, they're just as alone as you are.
in between their giggles and curses, and whines.
they have to listen to their own voice.
or maybe they just can't hear it anymore.

they will have to someday,
when it's no longer them, but he or she.
sighing from the yellow sheets of his last bed.
at some point, that voice is all we have left.