its a pulsating aloneness

this feeling i have,

just tiny

and unsuccessful

and shrugged aside so easily.

i think that those who want

dont know,

and those who know

dont want,

and that makes this whirlpool

of whatever this is,

just seem utterly

endless

and with no reprieve.

and all these dull thoughts

that spill onto this page,

are but a mere drop

of the enormous well

of pointless emotion

that i drag around

each day.

and theyre read,

and disposed of,

as is

their author.