Isolation

If I started to scream,
would you believe it came
from both pleasure & pain;

can you believe
               in anything
at all?

But that question came to me in a dream
                so ignore it:

because
                this isn't poetry

just another useless eulogy for

                isolation.

The World Outside…

From the window of my room I watch as
the surrounding houses begin to glow;
little photographs of light develop
in the night & again I wonder why
I’m doing this, wasting my existence
observing
            at the expense of action…

Into the distance
            the sodium heather
of suburban plains
            sprawl out forever,
                    & to the East
the city tries to reach
        ever further toward the sky:

this world to which we all belong does not
belong to me;
            a comforting lie,
a lullaby
to soothe fears crowding behind these eyes
that receive the light
            & gives it to a mind
capable of doubting its own perception.

Tonight,
I’m watching from the window of my room
as my neighbours continue with their lives,
wondering what they are doing, & if
they could, or ever would
            want to understand mine…