LONELY

I have great ambitions to be
lonely.
I have my lunch breaks in empty
diners, and spend
my evenings with the raunchiest
sitcoms Netflix 
has to offer.

I have great ambitions to come
up with 
any and all answers without
your help. And, as
incomprehensible as the
meaning of life
is, I like to think I'm cracking
the code, at least
in the privacy of this mind
with no one to
tell me I'm not.

I have great ambitions to hold
up my
body and my burdens like dum-
bells weighing a
thousand pounds on either side of
me. Because strength
I see as less of a value
and more of a
necessity, it sets me free
knowing I am
more than I appear to be. I
will bench press my
baggage for hours on end if
that's what it takes
to convince you I don't need you
to hold my hair
back when I have too much to drink.

I don't dislike people, I promise.
I dislike
needing them.
I dislike
pulverizing them under that weight
of my existence which
I'm 
perfectly capable
of carrying myself except when
I'm not.
I dislike
referring to them as "them", as these
incomprehensible
things,
beings I've lost so much
touch with I can't remember when I
was
last touched, held, warm, happy,
understood.

I had great ambitions to thrive
in the
cold, at least freezing keeps you whole
and intact (that
is, until you break). But sometimes,
melting doesn't
sound like the worst
thing that could
happen.