Loneliness Is The Human Condition
Partially hallucinating on television,
Eyes on the floor,
Thought to illustrate the door
By counting it’s individual marks of ceramic.
With its edges as sharp as knives,
The focus is clearly cut,
Abominated by the designs,
Painted on with tranquility and lust,
Desire determined when the cold air stirred,
Out of nowhere came the voice of
Lonely and invited it’s company to a cup of tea.