Tag Archives: isolation



go ahead and run

run screaming like Linnea Quigley

from me, the disfigured monster


instead, you’ll crawl away

slithering into the brush, to hide

until I’m gone


{ The barista at Starbucks asked my name

with resigned apathy. Then, she had the nerve

to draw a smiley face in the froth

of my cappucino. Later that evening,

splashing through the pissing rain,

I rush into a bar off of Mass Ave. 


The Starbucks girl is the hostess.


“How many ?”, she asks me,

with the same resigned apathy as before.

She has no recollection of me,

or of the damned smiley face that she drew earlier. }


go ahead and run

run screaming like Jamie Lee Curtis

from me, the hideous leper


instead, you’ll lurk in shadows

listening with rapt attention

until I draw my final breath





ISOLATION by Jeffrey Littrell

it took years to raise this wall
the barricade stands tall
from time to time, someone will infiltrate
I find it’s best to turn away
from glances cast my way
it’s something I will not initiate

my heart that’s black and bruised,
from times that I was used,
begs of me to not let down my guard
the tidal wave I rode upon,
and the chances come and gone,
all prove to me that easy love dies hard

as the frost glistens in the new dawn’s light
a woodpecker hammers, then takes off in flight
the sun soon melts the morning dew
then fades, as did my love for you

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