The
Spiral
A
poem is an emotional thing
Driven by what’s inside
It bursts from you
Tries to cling to everyone it sees
Either symbiont or parasite
Driven by what’s inside
It bursts from you
Tries to cling to everyone it sees
Either symbiont or parasite
How
can I write about the spiral?
It isn’t a poem
It is nothing
A hole, absent of that desire to live
It isn’t a poem
It is nothing
A hole, absent of that desire to live
And
yet it consumes
Quietly, like a crack in a bucket
Letting you drip away
Until you realise there is nothing anymore
Quietly, like a crack in a bucket
Letting you drip away
Until you realise there is nothing anymore
(13th November 2012)
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