I am not the first alienated man

nor will I be the last one.

 

It is the strange habit of history

that spits her true sons into the street.

 

It is a trifling matter this alienation

men from the street the world seems tormented

and now cannot touch me where I live.

 

My friends know my place, know my madness

know that I rest here easy

even smugly with the weight of history behind me.

 

Though they may feel as I do

that my days are numbered and finite.

However my search is not for immortality

I merely look for a place to live

and watch the earth spin on her crazy axis.