Burning, Burning…

Mind Burning

Burning, Burning, always Burning.
The water glass sits empty, idle,
Dry as my leathered throat.
Screens and papers engulfed with fired inks
Are as drought before my desire;
Barren to my drive.
There’s no reception left in this feeling.
Change the channel, but they’re all the same:
Static.

 

Isolated

Alone and no connections.
Six billion souls,
And not one I could understand.
Honesty… Honestly?
Isolation.

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3 thoughts on “Burning, Burning…

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