Alone
in poetry...

My retorts are bland,
like white rice...

When your tongue dripped silver buckets of verbs
without making a splash...

Have you ever thrown pennies
at the moon...

Why not avow my poem
its restitution...

I keep reading
our last drivel...

I do hate your blank face
of meaningless white words...

He left my rhythmic world
for something...

If selling raunchy lingerie on Ebay
is okay...

Someone else's toes
muddled themselves whilst stepping...

I'm frightened by the things
I cannot see...

Sometimes I find myself pondering thoughts
that have no real aim...