Isolation

You board up the windows with planks from the bridges you dismantle,

the moat floods over, and you set the boats loose from their dock

the water doesn't matter much;

it's the isolation that'll get you,

but you go inside and lock the door behind you anyway

sending out the occasional S.O.S. when reality sets in,

recalling it, walking it back, lying your way out of saving a few moments later

so the self-sabotage and regret mingle too close together,

too close to tell what's real anymore.

You'll die in that house

& no one will ever find you out there.