i hate these
long stretches
where the words
are all barbed
my inclination
is to let my fingers
trail in the water
then look dismayed
when i draw back
bloody stumps
nothing to say
sitting silently
listening to my
guts gurgle
an acidic roiling
i can’t be bothered
to do anything about
anxious and distraught
emptied out and
lamenting this
wasted evening
spent reading as
the words taunt me
with the heaviness
in having nothing
worthwhile to say


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