One Month Turns To Two

The space I inhabit
Colder than the rest of the house
(The windows leak, the fireplace is
not sealed)
More spacious than my last space
  But just as 
          confining and empty
The grey skies outside all eight windows
Mirror my heart

I shout into the void
But cannot be heard over
  the sounds of everyone else
Shouting
          into their own voids
  their own private
          hells-on-Earth
Everyone seems happy
  Everyone is lying
    This is fine

I mask my expression
Literal and figurative
I smile for a camera that
  No one sees
    Or can see
          or even wants to
I ask myself and everyone I see
    what the hell is wrong with you?
And their question of me
  mirrors my own of them

Long night into
  longer day into
    longer night into
A month of nameless days
  one month turns to two
    turns to three, turns to ten
And we are still nowhere
          or perhaps no-when
          or perhaps no-why
Hazy morning into wet afternoon

Alone.