– touch upon –

Is my craft worth more…

more than the consumption of

my lust,

my loins,

my closed need for craving?

 

Are these words valuable enough…

enough to nourish me

completely,

almost neatly,

never discreetly?

 

Don’t understand how…

the difficult nature in no return,

just some motion that is

an ill, move and

still, though a

thrill.

Do recognize now…

from authorities I did learn

that a spot inside is not

being met, being

fed, not ful-

filled.

 

 

D.J. Whisenant

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2 thoughts on “– touch upon –

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