Solitary

I always thought I knew what it was like to be alone.
Desolate.
Abandoned.
Bitter.
Now? Now I am troubled and exhausted.
For the first time, there really is no one.
No one to call or text late at night.
No new emails or voice-mail.
No status updates or friend requests.
Never again will I hear even the most benign, trivial complaint of an angry yuppie and their no whip latte.
I am bombarded by the cadaverous.
Nothing but rotting putrid waste.
No longer is there a question of Heaven or Hell.
That used to be a topic of such enormity and conflict.
Now I know the answer to the million dollar question...but there is no one to philosophize with.
They have come.
Flowing like demon seed, they torment me.
Reminding me of the undeniable reality of unrest.
I have nothing to stop the change.
With such arduous certainty, I will come back.
Not like before, in the indubitable sanctity of normal life.
I had no more peaceful options.
No pills.
Razors.
Ropes.
Or starvation.
I will be back.
Only outlet is a bullet.
I have none.
If I endure. grant me clemency.
Erase me.