Christ- it's awful to be so alone.
All is locked
The city is far-
So far.
No sound or honk.
Christ it's awful
To be so far away.
I write as a dead bee.
I hear a car far off
But that's mock company.
Oh, for that company I scorned.
I have locked myself
Out of my own car and home.
I yell at the sun
Where is he.
The sun doesn't hear
Nor listen.

The trees are aloof
While others struggle.
Plucked alone am I
My echo my only company.
So much space
So little me.
Am I a gem
On a vast velvet display,
The intricate body
Of a spider
Or a particle of soot
Caught maybe in a cloud?
This awsome feeling
That makes me big
Is held up by a hill.
The sun doesn't know
It's there
Nor does it ask.

Because I'm alone,
I'm big,
If I were in a crowd,
I'd not be there
For the crowd
Would be bigger than me.
I'd be trampled
And forgotten
Gone!