Decay

Today I don't want to write.
I want to do nothing
To get satisfied.
I think my head will explode,
But I don't know why.

Looking at the stars
I see nothing more.
I can't feel anything,
Much less my core.

How can a poet stop to poetize?
I didn't know it was possible,
Until there was nothing here inside.

Now there are two lines left:
One is a rest of rhyme a little mad.

And the other, lonely, is no more poetry.

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(23-04-14)