My mind-
is a slum of dreams,
around half of my thoughts,
flies linger-
while the other half,
are lost in childhood screams.
My heart,
with each beat,
craves another start,
which it has, of course-
but this one too,
is the exact replica of the previous-
duh!
My stomach,
is always in need,
always hungry, always thirsty,
in my being, is its being,
in its being, is mine-
and yet I cannot fulfill its needs,
it is greedy, my mumma told me,
like us-
it has no conscience.
My ***,
it doesn’t matter if its long and whole,
or is merely a deep insatiable hole,
it shall never be complete,
in entirety,
without the aid of someone,
craving for every *** who comes my way,
longing to fill it up,
and then emptiness shall fill it,
yet again-
for my life is-
very much empty-
like a void,
like the lives of many-
like my ***-
unfulfilled and moist.