Empty and debauched,
that hollow space
inside of me,
the cavernous
void that I tried
to stuff with
booze, drugs,
whores galore
turned out to be
the exact shape of
the Creator.
I smelled the stale
breath of death coming
for me on the
nightmare wind.
Life tasted like rotten
meat.
Maggots ate away at
my soul, and all I
touched felt like
cracked cement and
broken glass.
Always lost
forever searching.
I'm glad I found my
way home to the
sublime symphony, life can be,
should be
will be, if I don't wander
to the barren places, and
pitch a tent.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline)
- Published: May 28th, 2025 11:55
- Comment from author about the poem: My books are available on Amazon.com. This month, my latest book, Sleep Always Calls, was published. Here's a link. https://www.amazon.com/Sleep-Always-Calls-Thomas-Case/dp/B0F7FS5DQB/ref=sr www.thomaswcase.com
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Comments1
The first verse I find very spiritual and Biblical - echoes of Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament.
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