Loneliness - 2

Loneliness has a voice of its own.

You wake up to the sound of the metal clock.
Follow the announcement in a distant platform
where a speeding train halts screeching for a moment.

Grabbing a sandwich, you gaze up to the plane
that travels across the furrow of your forehead.
 You spell the word PEACE, P.E.A.C.E. like a chant
while the man in a black suite screams at a painting
of a village sunset hung behind your back.

You listen to the click of the central lock.
You listen to the whine of the blades of the fan.
You listen to the occasional crickets that
hover around your enclave.

At night, you hear the stars
breathe while they blink.

Loneliness - 1

Loneliness has a house of its own.

Each day brings a flock of dust

makes a nest in your living room; 

Layer upon layer.

Mundane affairs accumulate twig upon twig

and you forget to pick up a broom.

You settle down on the hardened sofa.

Pay rent month by month

for the unperturbed silence

listening to the symphony of a deaf Beethoven.

O' girl with vitreous teeth !

as you entered shattering the windowpane

and declared triumphantly 

This garbage bin must be changed, el pronto.

I am worried about the numerous birds

and their unhatched/half-hatched eggs

laid upon every nook and corner of the house

that has been feeding on me.