Born in August,
Teething on starfulness
Like any fire doomed
To be put out.
Now, hunger;
Starvation circles me as
An army.
My only wish:
To look into the sun without blindly
Suffering the consequences.
To cost myself for a moment
Of radiance.
How funny,
That I am considered in my prime.
Desirability left up to variables
Not even I am aware of.
My hunger: sexy not war-waged.
The gravity of me,
The pull
And inevitability
Will begin to eat more than itself.
RESURRECTION mag 