At home, with his soliloquies,
His fantasies, his memories,
His thoughts about disparities,
The youth he’s seen destroyed —

He struggles to find meaning in
The flow he’s intervening in
By screening in, and leaning in
And typing to the void —

For what is self-esteem but this?
To find and hit what seems amiss,
But miss the inside ludicrous 
The unity deranged

A world no longer recognized,
Just shadow-strangers, all despised,
Not knowing, with hope fossilized,
That he’s the one

Who changed

One thought on “Non-Conversations

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