checking a blank screen

Exploding Hearts

slow throb in my extremities

call away my light headed ache

well past the heady sweat of evening

in hours best spent on sleep or sin

my empty house sits at home


what on this digital screen

can pass for connection

after a million well hidden interactions

and a few failed actual emotions

colored yet another dinner shift


strangers might actually care

at least while face to face

and passing thoughts of anyone else

who might hope today is a good day for me

did not reach me with words


"call your sister" did reach me last night

bizarrely twisted genuine attempt

translation:  "care about her.  i don't know how."

solution: alcohol and exed exes, then a triple ex.

the odd salve for temporary relief of destroyed self


but nothing fills an empty house

no color light or sound, no twitching technology

no bland gourmet feast or vile liqueur

no soft fluffy creature, real or fake

offers genuine connection


in spite of so many mindlessly parroted words

by strangers masquerading as acquaintances

with best of intentions to improve foul mood

in spite of so many trite kind offerings

i am lossed

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i should be too old for this by now.

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life_used_to_be_lifelike's picture

As another fellow person who

As another fellow person who vies for inspiration and connection, I understand this message. "My empty house sits at home"....brilliant. I am so tired of mindless stranger conversations that lack depth and are full of fake smiles. Maybe someday someone will wake you up. Life surprises us sometimes.

"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.