This fissure is asylum

some solace from the solemn.


Though the ineffable depth

of her slow flowing beauty

is hidden below the surface

by the tremulous ripples

of an insatiable appetite,

I have swum these waters

and am still saturated

to the core of my famine

by a need for ceaseless more

of this mesmeric chaos.


A wanton beyond glut

for a splay of welcome

beckoning to once again

submerge nocturnal

and overwhelm

this curious requisite.


One response to “Hunger

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