castaway

my rehabilitation has been a calamitous success     I’m straight     and that’s great  but my social appendages have withered      and I lost my appetite for people     (present company excepted)    I don’t need rescued     I am where I am      unacceptably sedentary      but not lost for words

I’m the soul survivor of countless indiscretions     and author of miseries far too dank to mention        so here I am       stranded in the wilderness  of interpersonal indifference         I’m writing again - for what it’s worth        and stashing messages in bottles      their purpose remains unclear      I might reread them later       I’m not sure I really care