Running On Empty

An Old poem

 

The freedom to live is the freedom to starve

And I starve for love and life and poverty

Ever know what its like to go hungry?

Find me in the concrete tower, then you’ll know

 

All I feel is the concave of my ribs and aching bones

The concrete walls are not mine to own

I may be the prison of my own making, though,

But the jailor cannot be found

I starve for love and something profound

 

All I wanted to feel is the gnawing pain

To forget everything else, but alas in vain

I’ve stopped being a friend to the gods of plenty

And become obsessed now I’m running on empty