the hunger

the hunger, strong and manipulative.

the weak, sure to give in to

the hunger's soft cooing, drawing

the people nearer, taking them.

the hunger has broken my will

the desire to shrivel, desire to be thin.

the hunger calls me and rattles the walls.

the noises are noticed but not responded to, at all.

the hunger, my enemy. the food, my poison
the more it lures me, the faster I run.
the hunger must be fought, though I am frail.
the thought of feeding, my worst nightmare.
the hunger has made me what I am;
the small, weak, shadow of who I once was.
the hunger is shrinking me, killing me;
the more I ache, the more hollow I become.
the hunger has got a hold, a grip so tight.
the sun doesn't shine for me anymore,
the hunger keeps the clouds up above,
the sign of my sickness, unfixable, I rot.
the hunger, you can eat, or you can not.

narcissus

whatever keeps my spirit void
and my body thin
fragile and forever
receding
slowly fading
out.

Pack

Pack your bags and

let’s go.

Let go.

Pack your bags and

stuff them.

Zip them.

Pack your bags and

carry them down.

To me.

Pack your bags and

forget some.

Leave it.

Pack your bags and

run from.

Run to.

Pack your bags and

turn back.

Stay home.

Worm

Desperate and slow, ever inching towards a thousand little scattered pieces.

All empty, rowed and quivering in the grey.

Missing a tiny part and grasping frantically

at emptiness.

Like a limbless man, belly down, worming his way to something,

slowly.

Stolen lines

"emaciated ghosts,
hiding in those
curtain's creases." (Samson, When I write my master's thesis)

I took its picture
before it evaporated.
A puff of smoke,
it went away.

A picture to prove
that it had been
that it was
and that I had seen.

I'm sorry,
I'm not a fucking poet.

A new place

Before tomorrow,

after yesterday,

but not now.

Not now and not yet.

I used to remember,

releasing memories,

of what was.

Not now,

but at one time.

I kept it,

held it for so long.

Gripped it

with care, with love.

But I forgot

what I wanted

when it was easier.

Not now,

but at one time.

To wake up

in a new place,

not better, but 

just different.

I can't remember

what was

or who I was.

Not now,

but at one time.

Layering

I met you as I was tunneling through,
descending into the cracks between
layers of fossilized time.
You, balled like a hedgehog,
frozen between sheets and panes.
Trapped in your own past.

Though I tried, I could not rouse you.
Despite the rough shaking,
and the volume of my cries.
Eventually, I too lost
the desire to continue
and curled into your shadow.

And the layers grew above us,
like mortar and bricks anew.
They painted us into this place and
piled high above our nestled bodies.
Like mortar and bricks anew.
Like mortar and bricks anew.