empty space

No one ever warned me
about this type of emptiness.

It follows the rhythm
of that constant throbbing
in the most

hollow

spaces

of your mind.

It is the type of emptiness
that devours dreams at night.

It wanders

into the subconscious shadows
of your nightmares,
dragging all what is evil
out with it.

It is the type
that clings to your stare
in the mirror
causing you to lash out—

who the hell are you?

It lets your mouth grow dry
and your throat go numb
because it does not want

you

to swallow a damn thing

except—

your forbidden thoughts.

It is the type
that kneads its way into your blood,
feeding all your wicked impulses,
building levels

of rage

and resentment;

the type that has you
bitterly questioning—
why you did not surrender
to such a beautiful creature sooner?


It is the type of empty space
that I can never tell a soul about,

because no one
will ever understand

how much

this other side

of me

is starving.