Loser's Rhapsody

I,
The winner who always loses;
Crushed beneath virulent praise
Filled to the brim with promise
As the pariah whispers lullabies in my ear so that I may breathe in my sleep

I live the winner
So that I may love the loser

Crouching quietly in an idle corner of some rapists rhapsody
I calmly compose my desolate canvas with spectral tears
I am complete without reason
Taking my time with my image as it tangles with my ideas

And yet the glamour of loneliness remains too potent to pass up for this perfunctory permanence of genuine emotion.
Why must I quiver and quake at the Altar of Answers?
Why must I long for the salvation of a Smile?
What laughter is worth the cost of this Lie?

Loneliness is Truth;
is the flavour,
is the fragrance,
is the music,
is the solitary pinch of rain,
is the perfunctory peck on the cheek,
is the idle bounce of step on a bad day,
is the lost glance met by a stranger and dropped with a smirk,
is the sound of your stilettos clicking on the asphalt,
is the cruel lover,
is the smell of spring riding the April wind,
is the person sitting next to you on the bus,
is the mirror as you wipe away water stains,
is the mob that sees you and the crowd that doesn’t.

In Alone-ness lies the mythology, theology, cosmology and chronology of the Human condition.
And in Aloneness lies the dream of something else without the hope of it.
Alone-ness is the Big Dipper,
Alone-ness is the All

And the Loser who still wins is All Alone.