There’s a hole in a heart; like a chasm yawning
its someone so tired of filling themselves up
on pleasures- a walking cane of illusions- guided
by life’s many misapprehensions

Delusions of a mind’s coy mistress, engulfing me
with distress; you refuse to die, even in my heart’s
relapsed silence
a fathomless ocean of solitude

The magnitude of which is me, being tired of
loving with no results- living in the livelihood
that certain people you care for will leave stains
in your recently organized house
Still let me move onto another place, like the old
blossom in the breeze
Even as that yawning chasm starts to squeeze;
I won’t feel it up with things not received from the prayers
on my tired knees