lonely lives ‘long side lulling trees
and sleeps in scratchy fabrics of discontent
she smokes a camel light
sips a glass of wine from a bean
sits on some sorry sidewalk and wishes for a swing
justifying her clichés through swigs and drags

lonely feeds on appealing addictions
and blames the binge on the constant battle
she picks at the keys of an antique piano
hears fuming, minor chords
and dissonant drawls begging for meaning

lonely flirts with pictures of the past –
pretty little pieces painted and hung crooked in the brain –
and fights future failures with her culprit named control
she finds her surrounding world sanitary
and herself the selfish, whore center with no desire to be on display

lonely wakes to a blazed head
and works to fulfill the flighty, clouded cranium
he stalks up to suppress the damned, bored existence with no journey
he swears a passion, but
finds happiness in a bottle of dissolved drug –
180% proof of failure –
his hopes are so soluble in his damaging intensity

lonely seeks no standards
he can’t stand middle ground and won’t stand to
he sacrifices sanity for standing alone
and stands alone for no reason, but for that of having no purpose

lonely raises a handful of hell and
and loses her grip
woman can’t find no joy
and disguises jealousy by stabbing smiling criticism in the raised
woman can’t do anything right anymore
and forges fault on a close, controllable victim
woman clings too securely to stability
and loses all language of self

lonely shrinks openings prematurely
and sticks close by to past closures
lonely lingers ‘long side lulling trees
and sleeps in scratchy fabrics of discontent
yet dreams of fluid fabrics of substance.