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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.
