The need to feed...to feed in
To find someone, anyone
Something, anything that can
Feed into you what you need
The need becomes
An impossibl irritant.
Finding someone who
Can feed into you what you need
That most reminds you of yourself.
That most reminds you of that
Inextinquishable luminescence
That radar of a dead star whose
Ghost shall never cease to cast
Shadows
But the object of desire is forever
In flux. consumed by a fevered
Gluttony that runs from sex to
Food to pot & speed & caffeine
& nicotine & begs to be feed an
Enormous amount of useless
Junk, trivial soundbites, random
Affections and hundreds and hundreds
Of forgettable fucks.
And the more you have the more you want
Gluttony is never satisfied
Gluttony is never satisfied
Not when taunted by greedy eyes
That beg more...more...more
And the more you have....
But to fill the void within
Only the self will suffice
We reach this realization
Only after we've stuffed every hole,
Every opening, every orifice with
An indiscriminate amount of pointless
Junk/wreckage/waste/human offal
The object of desire is forever in flux
