empty streets
empty hearts
both as cold
as a shitty kiss
grit my teeth
and hiss
at absolutely fucking nothing
conversations that spiral
from meaning to
background noise
while the TV plays on
incessant chatter
till i no longer know
if it's the TV or a human being
talking to me
my head is in some space
where the angels float
asphyxiated
i count them off
one by one
i wish i could float too
wouldn't that be fun?

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some days, you hunt for the poems. Other days, poems track you down like hungry cheetahs on the Savannah 

eat the world

a gnawing hunger
loud as thunder
threatens to rip
the fabric of the world

more, give me more
then give me some
the hunger will only end
with the setting of the sun

as the moon rises
the darkness will rise the same
the need to eat, to consume, to devour
to put something in my mouth again

chew, crunch, bite and swallow
this flesh coffin is still hollow
no matter how much I eat
this hunger I cannot beat

once I've eaten the world
I will eat the heavens too
then will come to turn of hell
once I am done with that, I will eat myself