Part of the truest realisation we will make about suffering is just how vulnerable we are alone.”
Alone
Watching black jackets fade into the night, out of the blanket of warm lamps,
And dim windows shielding sensual mutterings from the outside.
Sitting staring at cream walls, shabby tiles, and immaculate cupboards,
A cluttered sideboard and an unplugged countertop oven.
Dreaming in shades of future memories and forgotten troubles
Mental icons bouncing around an inside empty screen
Running hands over a messy desk and picking up litter
That goes into a bin bag hanging by the sink.
Instinctively finding the keys, but struggling to fit them into the bloody door,
And being the only one to use the toilet brush properly
Stairs that they said they’d carpet two months ago
But instead getting your socks caught on jutting nails and metal struts every morning
Running up the last step fearing something behind you
When the timer clicks off the hall light
Simplifying writing so it rhymes
When sat up and awake late at night
Speaker connected but silent, outside noisy in patches
Someone screaming in the winter weather for no reason
Three tonal beeps and the end of a message being listened to in someone’s car
And the disconnected voice no longer muffled
Walking past a drunk scuffle, where every swing is a miss
And seeing people’s expressions already regretting a desperate last-minute kiss
A group of the homeless out on the benches arguing about nothing
While they blast drum n bass.
Nothing to say, only to see
And hear and listen
And experience
Alone
Tom C- Blog and Collected Works 