parp

lespoemesdesfillesfolles:

something less
than the excess
of my selfishness
expands along the edge
of my consciousness -

i want to write
something with
substance

not just a flesh
fest, not only
an insidious collision
of imprisonment
inside my own mind
and the need to
feed upon the words
i read
and re-read

these people inspire
what is on fire
inside me
to come out.

but without substance 
and instance
all that comes out
is a breath
and when nothing rhymes
with breath
i’m left
to tack
my wisp-words
to the peak
of an exhale
like trying to catch
a cloud
and pin it down

all my fire
expires
in one sigh of
unsubstantial
smokeandmirror
death.