zef

it moves unnoticed
passing between worlds
but I can smell it
it's aroma fills my lungs
singes my throat
with it's poisonous wonder

could i have a taste
the freedom seems so delectable
to have it in my mouth
would be a dream

I said, could I have a taste?
It seems like it would be so filling
could you save some for me?
I'll pay you handsomely
in whatever currency you transpire

I just want a little
to whet my appetite
to sooth my searching hunger
to lull me through the fight
so that I can raise my head
at the end of the night

But the hunger always loses
to the wanting and the greed
to the loneliness and dishonesty
that comes with unending need

--it's a little older. not sure of the date. Strangely composed in a similar mood as the previous, but doesn't feel as raw, but nonetheless as honest. It reads like it is aware of an audience. I don't think I wrote the previous entry with the intention of posting it anywhere, there was a welling up, a need to dispose, so words came forth. It's late.

I just watched Basquiat. I feel less than stellar. He created vast amounts because he wanted it. While I have an idea of what I want, I don't formulate the present to get it.. I am turning my backside to you, someone give it a good kick, please.