Isolation Station

Waiting my turn, watching people pumping gallons of loneliness into themselves, paradoxical thoughts enter my mind — how it is, electronically, I can transact with someone I’ve never seen nor ever will see; how it is that flowers bloom where they were not planted, and die where they were; and how it is, like food and drink, we are destined to lose most of what we take in.

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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