Hungering for something,
enacting my scarcity.
Running lamely for strength,
and losing clarity.
Letting laughter be turned,
in the house of tears.
Surrendering my will
to kick against the spears.
It's Friday, I'm in love.
Sunday, don't come too late.
When new volition springs,
to kick sulphury gates.
Wisdom makes a home
and laughs at darkest fates.
The clear Word rises,
new legs alight.
Festival tables spread,
Hunger dances with delight.
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