Monday, July 16, 2018


It's small
This hole of my throat
So how can it feel like this
Endless spiraling chasm
This unaccountable void
Like something huge
Wound up inside me

I yearn to fill it with words

String them together
Somehow, in some way
A knotted cord on which to cling
But nothing seems to stick
And I'm just holding empty threads

My father taught me
That to stop the rope unraveling
You seal the end with flame
But I guess, in a way
That's the problem

Because there's nothing inside me
And nothing for which I burn

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