Extraterrestrial Me

Extraterrestrial Me

Burnt steak,

burnt chicken,

burnt potatoes,

burnt conversation.

I don’t understand

the people around me,

disconnected is not

a disconnected enough word.

Sitting still,

listening to mild contemplation

about,

burnt steak,

burnt chicken,

burnt potatoes.

Like I’m not even here?

The ice in my glass

makes more noise than I do.

Gets more attention too.

If I cut off a finger

would they notice?

maybe if it were one of theirs,

one they care about.

I’m a weed on this chair

ignored.

I cant wait to go home

and be less alone.

Less alone than here.