Empty Highs
Delving Into a Fury,
Is it Hunger?
There is a pit,
Where a Deep Well of Anguish
Drowns Sugar Rushes.
Empty Highs!
“Cometh the Hour, Cometh the Man”
Bellowing an urge of Aggression With
Delicate Sighs.
This Is my Contradiction.
To Feel So Far Away
When There Is No Needed Distance between
Me and Myself.
I am An Island and Must Accept
I am My Own Company
There Is No Sorry Symphony.
Just the Crashing of Judgmental Waves.
I make waves.
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