on a snowed-in weekend
i empty the last of my reserves.
my body shrivels up--
it shrinks back like cold wood.
i eat my fill
and then some more,
but hunger gnaws away
at the emptiness left inside me.
i drink until the wine
turns sour in my mouth
and burns its way
through those remaining cracks.
time chases me away
into restless sleep or---
little worse, or little better---
distracted dissociation.
any way the wheel turns
i still spin--exhausted.
i am trapped within the emptiness
and it feels as though it will become me.
even these lines look cold
and hollow of any meaning.
