Feed

What more is a poet

than a bullshit artist?

Sorry, didn't mean to offend you.

But when behind the pen, you

start this journey

to rediscover yourself.



Grinding out cryptic line

after line -

after line -

after image -

after rhyme -

After it's all over

begging for a styptic

because you're bleeding from the heart.

Oh, who could smell properly

your allegorical farts?



Take it for what it is,

like I do:

We're lyrical whores

crafting miniscule worlds

to escape

to where we can't be touched.

And as much as I'd love to believe

Word elicits some spiritual seed,

it merely exhibits a need

and solicits the minimal portion

on which to feed.



Not with me?

Great:

This is where I declare

my score

as genius

and there!

I ain't hungry no more.

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