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
Begging for bits of red belief
I have nothing of any substance
There is no satisfying this starvation
I have only this last bite of me
Wasted away scraps of words
I am only bones
But you may have them
-a.r.
sometimesihatemycat 