Unfinished.

I cannot stand it
I never could but now it is building
All I have are these words and they cannot caress me
They cannot comfort me
like other human flesh can 
but I have no one and I want
no one because after a while all their
faces blur together and their 
names taste the same and their
habits get just as irritating. 

One soul.
That is it,
one person 
who has never
enraged me. 
One friend.
That is it,
and I can pretend
and grin like the rest of them,
but I am not with any of them,
I am of no one,
And all I lov'd - 
I lov'd 
alone.

Perhaps
I am in a cage of my own making,
by refusing to be caged myself
by any wand'ring eye, not
lending a chance nor 
passing the time. Perhaps
I am my own Holly, sans cat
sans name and I've only yet to find
my own Paul Varjak. 
V-A-R-J-A-K
Is it even a possibility
W-R-I-T-E-R
another lost soul 
wandering in the distant and impossible
valley of humanity

It seems
I only love dead men
who tell many tales and
seem more interesting and 
tolerable than the living ones. 
It seems
I do not know the meaning
of the word I seek, so 
wander aimlessly, so
someone show 
me.