Public Writing

Writing has been
dubbed the activity of
loneliness. Words composed
in the absence of the world
depicting humanity.

Which is probably why
I write in public. In
the centre of human chaos;
voices, words, gestures
tripping over themselves
in a rat-race to feel
important. Lights, sounds
all vying for sight;
for what is anything if
it is not acknowledged.
I may have company
but disconnect lingers;
a gnawing reminder that
I remain Khalil's island.

The world around me revolves
in centripetal ubiquity; faces
composed of blurred squares,
conversations garbled and a
sense of superficial collectivity;
all collapsing outside the
walls of my solitude.

I write hence, in the silence
of noise, words describing
the whir of the world.