Somewhere within
These illicit words
Is an addiction
Strung out
On hope
Stained
With screams
Of regret
Colored
With mortal decay
Left thirsty
Stripped
To its core
Hollow, ruminating, replicating
Through blank spaces
Within the only thing
We know as real
Pounding
These pages
Left empty
In the belief
This all
Leads
To something
Different

poet 2.jpg

The Poet – part 2