lonliness

Loneli Ness

alone in a backroom of a garage-apartment.

sitting in front of a keyboard tip-tapping away into the night

looking through webs alongs digital nets

in search of life

in search of truth

in search to escape this prison called Loneli Ness.

Like a mysterious monster from the depths of a Scottish loch

it rears its unseen head and looks long at the shadow of the

man sitting alone in the twilight of a moniter reading

conversation from another place in the world.

alone in the night, lost in the silence beneath an airy vent

whispering rumbles of the system as my mind searches for words

that I am slow to find and hesitant to type

as the iron disk of memory whirs

as the imagined touch warms my back

as the chill settles on my skin and

sleep slides into my eyes until I wake to write this again in draft to draft

with fluctuations of dreams clouding my senses of the feelings of my hold on the reality and the nature of the state from which wine flows and Loneliness.