I am doomed to talking to walls
and felines
collecting what's old and making
it older,
living in a small house
that's draped in floral
every curtain every cloth
suffocated by flowers.
I can almost smell the loneliness
or is that just my future cats?
running around
purring unstoppably
communicating with me when
humans cease to effect me,
music stops to move me
and I'm GRAY.
It's inevitable the way I go about
too late for the love train
Each time I punch my ticket in
and wait in elongated lines
then follow a stream of punctuated
signs
clocks tick and tock
but I am late.
Once again I miss the love
train
And I return to waiting for my
my feline-filled floral-stained
lonely days.
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