Angling for
what I am missing.
Hunting for
my emptiness.
Break my pack
to fill the gaps
with whatever
I drag from the abyss,
or that I can stalk, now.
This might be
and admission,
my testament,
my confession.
A baring blade,
unsuitable
for a peaceful task.
Each letter is a cause for war.
Don’t speak,
don’t think;
you’re an atom bomb.
Don’t hide,
don’t lie;
make your impressions wrong.
So far,
we’ve waited here
in the cold.
Not even a bite.
Abandoned the Sun
for electric light.
Tracing it all
back to the beginning;
one thing at a time.
So humiliating,
each time I think
I have something on the line.
This kind of search,
this pursuit,
is dangerous.
Mind
intensifies,
with so
much superfluous
lies.
The holes
in us only become
spaces for the cold
to get in.
Gotta fill the gaps.
HG – 2018
