Loneliness shakes through me,
Retching on the emptiness of my soul,
Bile spews forth.
Considering the appetizers,
I choose the one that turns me again.
What will settle my stomach
In this dark hour?
Before me I only see acid,
That will bite deep into me.
Emaciated I long for satiation.
Empty I seek to be full.
I turn from the feast before me.

This poem is Copyright (c) 1994 Kerry Brodt. All rights reserved.

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