This is not writing,
this is not art,
this is simply another attempt to quiet the voices
that live in between the cracks in the walls,
and underneath the floors,
slowly slithering their way towards me and
taking up residence comfortably
in an already vacant heart.
But they are not welcome here.

They are the river that cuts through the canyon
of an empty soul,
slowly eroding away day by day.
Let me have another quick fix,
some sort of wicked sustenance
just to make it through.
Despondency rears its ugly head
and opens its gaping maw,
ready to devour another victim.

This heart has been an empty house for years.
I kept the doors and windows wide open
in case any soul would like to come and share the space within.
But despair merely sat in the shadows,
crouching like a predator,
waiting to pounce on its next wounded prey,
and devour it ravenously.