Feb 1
to have lived everyday
not knowing the colour of
the morning sun
such is my burden of
nothingness
that has made a home
somewhere deep within
me
slowly emptying into
the expanding sorrows
finding not one and
nothing to hold on to
as the world spins every
twenty four hours back to
square one
that is all that I have to
call of my own
a chain of thought
amplifying the silence
ten thousand steps back
and forth going nowhere
black coffee that tastes
like cigarettes
pointless letters to
no one
that is all that I have to
call of my own
