There are days....

There are days without words.
Days where no amount of prodding or payment could summon the vile beasts that so often leave me chained and hungry.
Days they forget about me. Fill my head with nonsense.
Leave my tummy empty with the aftertaste of hate.
Something's slightly off
When you turn to poetry for sustenance and it leaves you with nothing more than hollow growls of doubt and loathing.
Still...
I turn to it.
Bread and water or a cornucopia
I will not complain of feast because I have felt the pangs of famine
Similar to the void that gluttony leaves in its wake

Natasha Head
2016