Bitter Prose

A lack of appetite, a lack of sleep, and this body of mine becomes empty. Moving in and out of consciousness. My face wrinkles and my mouth stays dry. My chest feels tight as if breathing wasn't hard enough. Laying face down on a carpet littered with shredded up poetry. I unplugged the wires that connect from my brain to my heart. From my heart to my dick. Am I even wired like every other guy? For a split second I thought you had called me. A retrospective of winter and spring nights passed. I've heard misery loves company. To bad company is like a hot knife in my throat. Ring tones that don't ring, coffee eyes that taste all to bitter. What? Does a cat have your tongue? Or are the holes in your chest finally filled? The holes you temporary filled with my emotions. I won't compare myself to a heartbroken dove, because I'm no birdbrain.