crack

so here it cracks
and cracks and cracks a bit more

an emptyness that i feed and starve.
but the status of the stomach, lack or abundance of energy, of you, or of anything else
never really matters.
for, everything and nothing goes so much deeper than this;
than it.

turn this,
turn it
inside out and dump substance all over the ground.
my body will be the purse in which will carry a burden or two, and numerous emotions
(some i don't even really need. or want.)
yet i keep them, this, it
regardless.

when the dry spell ends with pouring rain or even a trickle,
it'll hurt.
and if the sun comes out from behind dim clouds,
i'll be frustrated with the sudden change.
it seems i'm never confortable with what i have
and when i strive for what i think i need most,
i'm frustrated and i crack
and i crack and crack a bit more.