Tonight is no Exception

The feeder
hangs full.

Not even
the birds
come for
seeds
anymore.

The phone
rings only
when someone
on the other
end is selling
something.

The newspaper
hasn't hit
the front
door step
for years,
nor has a
neighbor
waved hello
in a passing car.

The cat went
out one night,
as she does
every night,
and never
returned.

With no trace
or explanation,
lifelong friends
have vanished like
winter flies

Ghosted
by everyone,
ghosted
like the ghost
of Hamlet's father,
only the ghost
is me.

It's like my
social life
has lost
cabin pressure
leaving me
gasping
for a breath
of fresh
acquaintance.

This echoless shout
into the canyon
of indifference
has me starting
to believe that,
after all these years,
I really don't have
any friends at all.

I know, I know,
I sound like
the host
of a self-pity
party but

this silence,
this solitude,
this isolation,
this desertion,
this rejection,
this estrangement,
this disconnection

finds me
swallowed
whole by the
jaws of
loneliness.

I wonder if
I died
tonight,
just saying,

if I died tonight,
would it be
the Fed-Ex guy,
or perhaps
Jehovahs Witnesses
peering through
the front door
window
who would
be the ones
to discover,
a year later,
my mummified
remains?

Fortunately I do
have enough
self-awareness
to know
when I am
feeling

this neglected,
this abandoned,
this discarded,
this ignored,
this dissolved,
this defeated,
this fucking alone,

I have a
tendency
to magnify
my paranoid
thoughts
and fears.

Tonight is
no exception.