Frustration

Another night in another smoky bar, music and beer and boys grinding, flirting, strutting. And yet I get lost on the train again, the hunger clawing at my brain with the neon signs in the shadows where I missed my stop, and the throbbing continues. Hard and fast in the night with a stranger. Why do I expect the stranger to care? Sometimes I want it raw, and other times I can’t understand why they won’t hold me; they, the faceless number of midnight encounters. I try to make them meaningful, but sometimes it’s just a fuck. Meaningless in the morning, but focused in the moment.

It hurts to be alone on the other side of the world. Crying silently to yourself when the moment is quiet, and hoping nobody saw. You feel weak. The world is twisting and twirling out of reach, nothing is for certain, feeling depressed. What have I to say right now that would make any difference in the world? It hurts, that’s all I know and I’m tired of it. This loneliness is back, it never goes away. Twisting into fantasy with every passing day. I think I’ve been here before. The lyrics flow like I wrote them yesterday.

Do I know what I’m searching for in the darkness, when I look out across the water and see broken pieces of the moon swimming away? Or when I stand in a quiet moment and look down on the park from above, see the black birds fly like a mob, see the plastic garbage caught in the trees, see the millions of other apartments with millions of other half-hearted lovers like me? What do I know? That love is elusive and tricky and can’t be found in passionate sex. And yet here I am.