Empty Stomach

by Sam M. Phillips

I’m hungry,

Damn these birds,

Where are the words

To cope through the madness?

Chemical distress,

All of this mess,

Less about will,

More about being able to fill

The hole inside,

I watch my soul slide

Down into a ditch,

I cannot teach

You anything,

We all bring

The complete picture

To life in the future,

Don’t bother to suture pieces,

The struggle never ceases,

We all revolve,

Trying to solve

The riddle,

The middle

Of existence bare

As I stare

Into the abyss

Of an empty stomach.

***

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