Halloween
by Me
Halloween is here again.
I see the masquarade posters.
There is a new word for fucking, now:
"Bone Down."
I like it, even though
I'm not participating.
Half of my poetry is about being alone
and alienated.
I asked my friend:
"What's happened to me?"
He said that I stopped liking groups.
I hate it when he's right.
Why do I pine for 'normalcy,'
when my younger goal was the opposite?
Oh how I dream of being in love
knowing that I would not be able to stand it.
Happy alone, but miserable too.
All that I do is
howl
at the moon
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