joey k poetry

Sat alone at one in the morning, 
a cup of iced decaf, a blanket 
over my head and shoulders, 
my blankie over one shoulder, 
a large cup of water, and a 
source of nicotine.

 
It all comes together 
to be completely me. 
There’s clubbing music 
playing while keys 
on my laptop clack away 
to the tune of poetry. 

I feel uniquely myself, 
here alone 
with the sounds 
and tastes 
and feels 
and words. 

Can we know ourselves 
unless we are alone 
for at least an hour a day? 

Can we know others 
without knowing ourselves?