My throat's a cracked desert, a canyon so dry,
My heart's a lone tumbleweed, blown 'cross the sky.
My love turned to dust, like a wish swept away,
Leaving me empty, and oh, so parched today.

I reach for a bottle, its promise so sweet,
But the fire it brings offers only deceit.
It burns and it bites, yet the hurt lingers on,
My spirit cries out, for a love that is gone.

I'm trapped in this whirlwind, a spiraling fall,
Each sip that I take leaves me weaker and small.
The ache in my soul, a deep, endless sigh,
And the world spins around me, as I echo, "Bone dry."

All words under a tree...
But I got no leaves left
My bark skin is thin
Roots have receded
Guess I'll dry
Take a seat

Petals of  dried flower  
Lay fallen dry and dull ...
Happy fragrance sent around
On glorious colourful days
Fades from memory..
As  songs loses its words
And words loses its music...
And trying to hear the unsung song
I feel fallen....
With no glorious past
Or colourful future!!

I was woken up by a nightmare.
I woke up in the middle of the night
when I had fallen asleep
and a poem was finished.
The silence makes the painting 
in the air I breathe,
feel heavy, feel suffocating.
My throat is dry.
And on such a thirsty night,
a poem ordered an inkbox
and a piece of paper,
and I ordered a bottle of beer
and a cigarette and also a lighter,
and night ordered

itself for me.

I need not use full sentences
I cannot if I want to express
The structure confines, represses, degrades
the integrity of the cries
Help me speak
My throat, mouth too dry
so dry, I do not have tears

Salt crystalized and formed the rock
mounds glowing orange
in the dessert sunset
my spirit rests, crushed to rubble
like ash

The Sahara seeing me
sigh in the desert
asked me why I cry?
I am left alone, I replied.

'I see, but you got tear,'
it hissed out.
I said, perhaps like me
first, you had an wet eye,
now is all dry!

the well is dry
i cannot collect water
i cannot sustain life

the river is swollen with toxic mud
i cannot cross to the other side
i cannot escape this

the grasslands have not seen rain in many years
the smallest spark could destroy this place
and i am awash in static

i sit under a long dead tree
and try to rest
and try to remain still

for to move is to cause a cataclysm
yet to remain stagnant is to cause my own demise

the wildlife that did not flee the drought have perished
the scavengers that came to pick apart the carcasses are gone as well

only i remain
the monarch of nothing
but bones and barren earth