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I want to be alone
Alone with my addictions
Alone with my writing
Alone to indulge myself


I delve deeper into
My selfish thought life
With no accountability
No restrictions,

Only my imagination
Can bind me

And I am bound

I’ve been jaded… jailed
Don’t care about people anymore
Don’t care to bother with those
Who couldn’t fathom me
Who can’t handle me

Don’t care to trust
Evermore anymore

I met Love before - maybe once or twice
It’s elusive, fleeting, a feeling
in this catastrophe of a world
there are no kept promises
Nothing "forever"

There are The Heathens and The Beggars and The Prostitutes
The Lonely, the Shameful
The Children: fearful and neglected - needy
we are all them

　
And these are my words of optimism