poems for the hunted

Sleepless

These nights

I stay awake and notice

My desire to waste away,

And rot

These fucking wicked nights

I do not rest

I curse whoever came up

With sleep

and I wish I could rip out

God's heart

And call her a traitor

then rip my own heart out too

And try to find

Anything at all

In there

FOR I WAS ONCE SOMETHING AND NOW...

I envy my youth, long lost.

It is terrifying how I

reminisce nothing

and yet remember

everything.