the insular

stuffed in your little box, waiting to die.

swore you knew someone

but they changed like jekyl to hyde

like oil & water deciding it was better to work together toward

something less concerned with others---

more to the point,

you swore you knew someone who you no longer know &

you’re certain of this because you see less & you hear less

from them

(cannot make their face out anymore/cannot make their voice out anymore)---

seems they climbed the ladder without you

seems they saw the tip of the pyramid &

clocked out,

snuggling right down in their little tent with their little brood

to count the days of their life away all

insular,

and you can’t have a conversation beyond the pathetic polite

pleasantries of parasitic

politicians

anymore---

it makes one wince

it makes one tear

it makes one tremble

it makes one stare (shocked like a deer in headlights roaring towards with no intent of stopping)

all wrapped up in how distance from each other

embeds itself,

separating & destroying

slowly.