there’s no one to talk to
and when someone does talk to you
they don’t make any sense
they just make loud crashing noises
that you’re supposed to pretend are language
are meaning, are friendship, are real.

there’s no one to talk to
and when someone goes speak your name
they tear and claw your delicate
wings apart and you crash in tatters
upon the cool stone pavers in the soft morning air

there’s no one to talk to
and when someone comes say a word
the word is dirt, the word is hurt,
the word is the sign of death
the word is your last stupid breath.

there’s no one to talk to
when you’ve got nothing more to say
and only want a hug from some wife
in some home beside the ancient sea
where you’d been before you life
became a story you’d pretend to be