How can it be,

When you there’s a whole host of interactive technology,

That we feel more lonely?

Isolated in four walls,

My cast, a microcosm of my prison.

Wrapped like a mummy from elbow to fingertips

I sit and try to ignore the pain.

It Sears through my brain 

Ripping, tearing and pulsating through my train

Of thought.

But the longer it lasts, the higher the walls grow.

At first they’re just bricks, protecting and housing pain.

The white plaster encasing, supporting the agony.

But 21st century leaks through and comments, texts and calls are made…by 

Those you recognise as friends. 

You sigh, I’m not alone…

At first.

Then, time runs out.

An invisible stopwatch of friendship, you feel you should know about

Runs out.

A black out ensues.

One that lengthens the minute by minute pain.

You know, deep down, life goes on

So you mop up your one handed attempt at breakfast along with your tears

And silently soldier on. 

Those brick walls have thickened to block out phone signals now.

Only monosyllabics squeeze through.

The monotony of pain becomes your routine friend.

You even ignore the lack of thank yous for your attempts to work through the pulsing pain.

But the cast is so tight, nothing is getting in

And I can’t breath. I’m a has been.


Published by krystaljem

The epitome of the cliche those who can't do... teach. More specifically English and Media... Oh one can dream can't they? My passion is creating: poetry, fiction, baking, clothes. I like to try my hand at anything. I love the escapism and have respect for anyone who can eliciate an emotion from me from their work! I hope that one day I can evoke that others.

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