Shattered

 

Betwixt the episodes of dull exhaustion,

Between the gleaming shards of an imaginary life,

Beneath the spiderwebbed mirror of memory,

Before each dream cut like naked glass

 

Befallen from the gloaming of the underworld,

Beyond the glimmering cavern of illusion,

Bespoken by legion tongues of daemons

Belongs this poisoned curse,

 

I still believe,

In the one,

In the two,

In the ten thousand glittering things,

 

Beholden only to the frame

Of its shattered existence.

 

 

© 2024 Edward P. Morgan III

I Liked You Better

 

I liked you better

Before I knew you

Were a pedophile,

A murderer,

A rapist,

A thief.

 

Homophobic,

Antisemitic,

Sexist,

A bigot.

 

Liked is really

The wrong word.

Tolerated?

Accepted?

Admired?

Loved?

 

Or was I just

Mistaking

Attention,

Attraction,

Intrigue,

Or lust?

 

We reveal ourselves slowly,

Cautiously, seductively,

A shadow dance in seven veils,

Each slips or stripped away

 

Until all that remains is

An unrepentant scar,

Malignant as cancer,

Ugly as truth.

 

I no longer want to

Hang out with you,

Get to know you,

See you naked.

 

I just want to cover my eyes,

Hide from my misjudgment,

My shame at not seeing

Beyond your mask.

 

And yet, sometimes

I still miss the person

I thought might linger

Behind that illusion.

 

 

© 2024 Edward P. Morgan III

Loneliness

 

Loneliness is an orphaned lab monkey

Raised by the surrogate doll it clings to

For warmth and companionship

While a troop of white-coated

Researchers hide behind

One-way mirrors

Scribing notes.

 

Loneliness offers

A simple choice:

Embrace something broken

Or grasp at empty air.

 

Loneliness suspects

This life is a simulation,

One that violates all

Ethical standards for 

Behavioral studies.

In a word, it is cruel.

In a second, sadistic.

 

But this Loneliness is yours.

You may hear voices

In your head but at least 

They know you’re here.

 

Loneliness is neither

New nor modern.

It’s as old as Empire,

As ancient as the Flood,

The original Sumerian, not

The Hebrew knockoff.

 

Loneliness is now an epidemic,

An epidemic, like the 1919 flu where

They stacked bodies like winter wood

In snow-strewn Scandinavia,

Or Covid-19 in New York City 

Where they rolled in train cars

Of artificial ice.

 

Loneliness is a community dying

From alcohol poisoning or withdrawal,

From opioids or other recreational drugs,

From gunshot wounds, malicious or self-inflicted,

Or from general stupidity,

Fast or slow.

 

Is Loneliness the key?

Or just a fashionable hill

Where we plant our banner

And make our final stand

Like the 7th Cavalry at Little Bighorn,

Or the Foreign Legion at Dien Bien Phu?

 

Loneliness is the adventure of a lifetime.

 

Loneliness is isolation, not a phase of the pandemic.

Loneliness does not have its calls returned for months.

Loneliness remembers it took as many days for someone to

Track down her son and daughter as she spent in an ICU.

Loneliness quietly closes the final chapter of that book whose

Denouement had begun a decade earlier.

 

Loneliness has friends

Who send a gift card

For wine or cognac,

Your low-dose adult poison of choice,

Not sensing the tragicomic irony

Of how she died.

 

Loneliness is knowing

They wouldn’t have

Done anything

Different had you

Been face-to-face.

 

Well, maybe, Loneliness

Is precisely that.

 

But Loneliness waits 

To catch up with you

Years later like a friend

At a favorite coffee shop. 

 

Loneliness is the day

You are released

From the hospital,

When, unlike her, you

Got to walk out the door,

And were driven home,

Not gurnied to

Cold storage until

Someone could dig up

Your next of kin.

 

Loneliness is your two best friends

Standing by the door,

Wondering where you’ve been,

Waiting to curl up against you,

Like years before when they

Kept you alive through

Another raging infection

Of isolation.

 

When Loneliness told other friends

Eight years earlier that all you

Could do was lie in bed for weeks

Watching stupid movies,

Their only response was,

Which ones?

 

Much younger, Loneliness revealed

A four to seven trump card hand

Of an ACEs high home life

Only to receive ten-mile stares

With no words of comfort,

Much less actions, before

Responsible adults turned away

Squeamish and uncomfortable.

 

Loneliness knows that

If few read that narrative

In poetry or prose,

Fewer still

Understood it.

 

Loneliness realizes

Iteration by iteration,

On the third or fourth

Descending spiral,

That it’s turtles

All the way down.

 

Loneliness is a conversation killer,

Approaching people at a party

And having them suddenly

Grow silent and drift away.

 

Loneliness is shut down

From talking about anything

Personal in no uncertain terms

By the people nearest to you.

 

Loneliness is solitude and silence

Becoming your closest friends,

Imaginary like the ones who

Disappeared.

 

Loneliness has

No tribe, 

No clan, 

No wingman at your back.

Maybe if you’d been

A better kid,

A better comrade,

A better confidant,

You wouldn’t be so alone.

 

Loneliness spends its days

Moderating expectations,

Predicting with precision 

Each brief communication 

And insincere offer.

 

Loneliness hears

We should do

Lunch,

Dinner,

Grab that beer

You can no longer drink,

Catch up.

 

Loneliness learns to

Echo back the same tone,

Yes, yes we should,

Just let me know.

 

Loneliness is eventually informed,

I’m sorry, the number

You have reached

Is no longer in service.

Please hang up

And dial again.

 

Loneliness says

If only you could

Text or TikTok.

Ain’t no one

Got time for that

Archaic email.

 

Loneliness just stops

Right there, at time.

Loneliness makes time 

For what it values.

Loneliness always reaches out

To stay in touch,

 

Loneliness is no shit,

There you were,

Fresh off a near divorce,

Sick and alone,

With the people who cared most

Either half a state away,

Or you’d never met

Face-to-face.

 

Loneliness is stones

Piled upon your chest,

Crushing your internal organs,

Heart, lungs, liver, spleen,

Each crying out,

More weight.

 

Loneliness admonishes you,

Try to be less sick.

 

Loneliness is neither

Sick nor well.

Loneliness reminds you,

You will never leave

This place unless

Feet first.

 

Loneliness says

It’s not me, it’s you.

That in this life we all

Get what we deserve,

A three-course meal

Of broken glass.

Bon appétit!

 

But Loneliness doesn’t forget

To tip its server.

 

Loneliness is the irony

That you shouldn’t be

Lonely at all,

At least by any modern,

Psychological advice.

 

Loneliness is reading

A chapter on mental health

Advising that you focus

Less on résumé values,

More on eulogy values.

 

But Loneliness asks

The obvious question,

What if no one’s there

To read the script?

 

No matter,

Loneliness replies,

You’re already dead,

Outside as well as in.

 

Then Loneliness advises you,

At least buy a new suit

So you’re a good-looking corpse,

Even if the service is private

And closed-casket because

Somewhere near the end 

You misplaced

Half your mind.

 

Then Loneliness confides in you,

As long as you focus on the future,

You can never die, no matter how

Much you seek that wish fulfillment.

No matter how much you

Deny or bargain,

You eventually arrive

At acceptance.

 

And that’s the one and only day

You and Loneliness

Likely make

Other plans.

 

 

© 2024 Edward P. Morgan III