Loneliness talks to me
in beautifully twisted baritones.
The world moves so fast it seems
while I am forced to run in dreams.
Her words are like metal,
and the more I hold onto them
the further I sink.
Mist on the mountains,
moss on the fountains,
rain rolling in stride up the hill;
I can see it all while she whispers into my ear.
Loneliness talks to me
in the face of every mirror.
“You’re a fat useless fuck,
and you will never be good enough.”
Sometimes she takes the voice
of someone I once knew
and barrages me in dreams
with her beautifully twisted rhetoric.
How long must I be promised to loneliness,
will ever another come through?
Its burden is finally catching back up to me,
and I’m caving and fading to blue.
Beautifully Twisted Loneliness
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