Starving Poet
I have pulled into myself, digesting
Writing, rewriting, and waiting
I have never had more drafts
With less meat to show for it
I have hesitated so often lately
Wanting more guts to give you
I have been empty and hungry
Waiting for bits of red belief
I have nothing to offer today
Without becoming a mirage
I have just this poem, starving
Wasted away scraps of words
I have only bones
But you may take them
-a.r.
Starving Poet artist unknown
sometimesihatemycat 