Hollowed Out

Hollowed out sex capades in an empty shell

I break down the walls

I open my flaws

It’s an emotional tie

Between the need to give and the feel of self-satisfactory

I despise my lonely abyss

But when met with company

I find myself in a portrait of Picasso

The abstract only finds itself in a pit of fire

Is this my fire?

Is this my despair?

The dead art I begin to type

It haunts my being

And so here I sit

The words fill the screen

My eyes follow

I reread my thoughts

My entities

As if the meaning

The reasoning

It would form to something new

The cynical patheticy I thrive on

It only keeps my weeping eyes hidden

A shield for the sorrow

I find this selfish poem a warning

As I begin to self-loath

I being to lose hope

This is the end

My dearest friend

Author's Note

Ive been writing poetry for years now but never with any real opinion, please let me know what you think =]

Reviews

[Christopher_Myles]

Its an experience of hollowness that I am all too familiar with. Captured it well.