is it a
black hole
tearing at
my fragile core
this endless
hunger left
unpacified by
coffee and
deepseated desires
offset by the
pulsations of
polarity shifting
voraciously
wobbling into
nothingness
as the morning air
whips up dust devils
in this winsome tomb
of dreams interred
queasy on the deck
of another night
spent hauling buckets
as the rats flee
the sinking blip
into the great void
of desperate
heartsputter

my love drifts
on the warbling notes
of birdsong
even as i fade away
into the despair
coalescing in
collapsing arteries
a wheezing rendition
of unearned scorn
tracing the scars
of harsh lessons
learned from a
lifetime of
failing to be enough
after giving everything
only to vanish in
a grotesque malaise
of unwarranted dreamdander

a dandelion fed
into a woodchipper