Lonely John Locked

Most don’ know this lockdown taste,

But I, like warms on waste,

Now mock those on lock as on their own grot.

Re-run their prayers to hug again.

And in disdain for the social-addict-men

I say “savour this drug, my long-solitude.”

Sadistic; pathetic - they name me

But we’re the same: you, me, he and she.

I’m lonely ‘cause don’ know who else to be.