I crave chambers that echo nothing
And to drip my soul into the void,
Spaces free from liking and loving
I crave no more people I may know
And no events coming up this week.
As I lit’rally plumb each new low
Storms of confected rage seem to peak.
I crave the indifference of dullards.
Share nothing with me you empty sheep.
Go watch your funny dogs and mallards.
Laugh out loud but you will let me sleep!
I crave whisky soaked words late at night,
Dancing to Doors songs until I go.
But before these Facebook posts so trite
I’m a moth to the screen’s dying glow.