no words

stoked fires  
and death bed  
 
neither started  
off with the current state  
as their destination  
 
destiny  
that bitch
never afforded them  
that luxury  
 
uncertainty fucks with the best of the minds  
long shot then
escaping it  
for the lonesome and  
the uber sensitive  
the poetic kind
 
you know what  
empty belly and wounded hearts  
they say  are the fertile grounds  
where the succulents of the artistic graveyards bloom
 
too many poets fucked around  
for far too long  
 
i see one smart arse decided  
to rather take the plunge  
.  
   
    
 
 
 
    . _