It’s late

I’m alone

Whisky in one hand

Pen in the other

Filled with a sense of ‘other’

Yet unable to explain

Unable to fathom the pain

Of knowing

Nothing

The human condition

The richness of experience

Bottled in a vessel

An essence of life experience

Sampled and tasted

And yet misunderstood

Or worse

Of no interest at all

A strange feeling

Of knowing yet not

A dichotomy of expression

Met with repression

Love in abundance

Yet alone in my loneliness

Alone with my thoughts

I can’t be you

Nor you me

Imprisoned in flesh

Yet to undress