Everything inside of me
is withering up you see;

what of me I wanted to
give to you I had wanted to
be a font, a fountain,

a rushing pulse of wet life,
all bloody and brilliant.

I have nothing left
to give you, though;

the waters within me
are drying up,
leaving me with nothing.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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0 Responses to Dwindling

  1. Trent Lewin says:

    You’ll never be left wtih nothing, Jones. That won’t ever happen.

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