Entry 638
Aug 23, 2017 · 1 min read
I do not eat often
While writing, I prefer energy
Attained through autophagy.
My fingers quiver
While loosing arrows of truth
That rarely hit their mark.
I aim at moving targets and fall short
As I forget my conviction.
Starvation inspires me
To seek intangible sustenance.
I do not hunt for sport.
I enter the Forest to find prey
That will fall before a sword
That is mostly hilt.
Blood does not stain my hands,
Only ink&nicotine.
Death does not fill my mouth,
Only smoke&shadows.
I will not claim to know
What words will come
When there is
Only silence.
