Web of Loneliness Poems

Poems of the Lonely

Maybe Narcissus Was Just Lonely

The bones of narcissus
are getting moldy
at the bottom of the well.

I am looking at myself look at myself,
in my universe everything
is completely self contained,
even the tree roots
are turned back on themselves,
feeding on themselves like starving animals.

I am sitting on my bed,
or on the toilet seat in a public bathroom, watching blood pool in the palm of my hand, milking my own heart for human connection.



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