One of One


The price of freedom
isn’t even loneliness.
Companionship can cause isolation,
and connection isn’t binary.
I admitted I don’t even like people
with reluctant attachment.
I know I’m better, and yet,
here I am again.
And I could be anyone
even if you are only you.
I step back and keep falling,
and he repeated,
“I told you about stairs,”
while trying to rewind time.
Quadrants are alien and confuse
and yet I chose to be one of four.
Adapting has only made things less clear.
Being truthful in inner conflict
is staring at several reflected, fractured shards.
I’m one of one, regardless of who I see.
I’m one of one, on my own and making it through.
I’m one of one, no matter who stares at me.
I’m one of one, with or without you.

Connections Crossing

Life: the waking dream that hazes between points of rest. Each moment is taking place in an external world that my inner world just made up based on that same external world made up by everyones’ own inner world. I dream so vivid that times asleep become more real than the day to day.

I keep searching for truth and on the way I often fancy the notion I’ve found some. We make our own truth and it only becomes more and more apparent as we trust what our senses tell us. Our senses hear what others chose to feed us. Even as we accept it as reality, we know that deep down we’re victims of everyone’s filter, especially our own. We experience a reflection of a reflection spiraling off into eternity, so we may as well be blind.

I’m bound to this world the same as everyone else. Sometimes I get notions of how really lost and alone we all are as a whole who shares the same wants. Humanity, the race of contradictions, struggles to see behind the masks of one another. When I look at you, I try to see past our posturing and learned responses.

Connection crosses us so easily and is severed with the slightest touch. As we’re all seeking it as savagely as we pull away from one another, it’s a wonder we survive.