Eremophobia

Morbid dread of being alone.

I Walk Alone by Pajunen on DeviantArt

I walk the demented, funk-ified streets of the city where I've been dropped like a scatter bomb.

Talking to myself because no one cares and insanity is your only friend in an insane place.

Sidestepping empty, discarded remnants of artificial Americana.

Scurrying to get where I need to go in the shortest distance possible like a human Map-Quest.

Reminding myself that I'm a permanent guest.

Unconscious of the in-between.

Stretching for the next curb to climb over the forgotten gutter and get past destiny's deplorable dumpster.

The indifference and despair so thick and plentiful you could cut generous slices with a pocket knife and still have enough leftovers to go with all the rice in Asia.

Steeping it in the hot, fulsome tears of their tea.

Cars pass by me choking and spitting their f-bombs.

With rattling speakers blaring curse-ridden, rap music.

Summing-up a dirty, foul existence.

On their way to nowhere.

I pass by other lost souls.

On their smart phones, talking yesterday's trash.

Running short on cash.

Smoking their cancer sticks on the way to 'Planet Fitness'.

I don't know them.

They're like weeds to me.

Unable to see.

Barely able to be.

Toting their little black bags of fermented faith from the spirit store.

Hoping for more.

Walking obliviously past all the churches with their doors locked and kneelers upright.

Praying in absentia their critical plight

Amidst a growing mass blight.

I don't belong in this Rod Serling Zenith Zone.

So I talk to the sky.

I ask it how and why.

I converse with the trees and the clouds.

The birds bid me a good morning.

Watching out for me in a sort of feathery forewarning.

Like a close friend, I wait for this evening's rain.

To ease the pain.

Lonliness hurts.

Like a breech birth ...

Author's Note

"You think that I am impoverishing myself withdrawing from men, but in my solitude I have woven for myself a silken web or chrysalis, and, nymph-like, shall ere long burst forth a more perfect creature, fitted for a higher society." - Thoreau

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is brilliant writing! I haven't seen one in this classic Pete style, in a while! For that reason, I'm especially hungry for this way that you cram a million ideas into a reader's head using a turbulent river of word play. This is one of your best in this style. There were not spots where I felt that you got carried away with word play, to the detriment of your message. The hammering desolation this narrator feels was always uppermost in the flow of brilliant imagery! The artwork is stunningly perfect, too. I feel you branching out more & more, writing in a more fluid way that seeps into every corner of one's mind (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Pete]

whoa. didn't expected that. you're very kind, insightful and a great coach to boot! it's funny - oftentimes the writes i feel the least confident about are well received and vice versa. i guess i just generally lack confidence in my writing. hmm, didn't realize i had been branching out. thank you Margie (HUGS) back 'atcha ... :)