Living
Daily, I battle
The tempest trying to
Blow my spirit into
Submission.
It takes me by
Surprise and sucks the
Wind out of my chilled
Lungs.
Drowning on the land, it’s
Harder to breathe
Sleeping in a bed of
Squalor.
Slowly hands touch,
Lips meet, a run of electricity
Up my spine
Shooting.
Emptiness cannot be
Voided by this
Illusion playing…
Lying.
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makes me want to drink alchoholic beverages
jimmy
December 1, 2010 at 6:43 am