When you connect with others
you can feel yourself pretending.
The smile as lacking in meaning as the conversation.
Slowly you end up
inevitably offending.
Awkward silence conquers each situation.
So I write with not much more
than fingers and dictionaries.
Tragically absorbing myself
like a starving stomach, like a sick canary.
Face glued to the screen trying to string words
together with alittle meaning.
Outcomes my bias, the pidgeon hole and my
political leaning.
Back into myself I go
hours by myself,
I know between me and the world there´s a feud.
No friends and now not even a muse.
I conclude this mediocre rhyme
with a definition of solitude.
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