I’m empty.
And nothing comes.
Not love, its been expressed.
Not hate, there is none to give out.
Not bitchiness, or frustration.
Or screams, tears or shouts.
Naught, niet, nada.
This coral reef organ,
that sits in a basket of cerebrospinal gunk
Has shriveled. Partially died. Collapsed.
The words have stopped flowing
Sunk, been absorbed by mindless junk.
Naught, niet, nada.
How I long for the words to flow once more,
Open up some small trapdoor,
Send a ladder to the metencephalon,
And let it feel again.
Something, something, something.
Send a spark into the eyes.
Like a little firecracker flame,
With a passion returning to beat and burn hearts again.
Grab it, before it slips away,
spills away.
Like pills dissolving away.
Almost, almost, almost.
Make the rope,
Tie the note,
Cast the line,
Hold fast.
Got it.
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