I like lonely things,
no, I’m obsessed with them.
When everyone is chasing the tail end of importance,
clawing at finding semblance,
I’m content to eat the crumbs of their efforts,
or so I tell myself.
Perhaps I love all this solitude,
because it makes me the only isolated thing,
in a world that is so magnetised to each other,
in a backdrop so filled with noise,
it is hard to stand out.