1 AM

Loneliness is a grated

Metal fence sapping

Warmth from shoulders;

Digging through thin fabric

Like rain-stained concrete,

Soaking its way through

Knitted pores in cloth.

Loneliness is the echoes

Drifting through the wind,

Sloshing off the tongues

Of drunken minors;

The knowledge that

They know nothing

Evaporating swiftly,

Like spilled vodka.

Loneliness is each LED

Lamp sprouting from the

Weather-cracked bridge;

Stubborn weeds emitting

Chilly puddles of illumination,

And comfortless shadows.

It is still, lush vegetation

Sprouting five stories below;

Each leaf viewed indistinctly

From the others.

It is cozy linoleum floors

And pale painted walls

Viewed from outside

Smudged window panes.

It is I:

A black speck floating

In indigo atmosphere,

Stifled by layers

Of cloud wisps

Stained orange

With light-pollution.