Living on Empty

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  • Loss

    Living on Empty

    .
    Living on Empty
    .
    Your radio is getting faint
    It keeps calling you a saint
    You can't escape the flame
    It's spelling out your name
    .
    I can't keep out your pain
    Numbing me like cold rain
    Now love comes second hand
    We all do the best we can
    .
    You turn into a bag of bones
    Is grinding me between stones
    Memories of all you've been
    Remembering trying to begin
    .
    It's hard to keep on track
    Your're never coming back
    Just another soul to roam
    Never really getting home
    .
    Mail will come on the wind
    .
    .
    .Fair Use Encouraged
    .All Rights Reserved
    .
    18 October 2008
    .

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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