Poem - Tampanensis
They call you the Philosopher's Stone,
But no more do I feel Plato than I do Plath.
Too late, the sham! Up
And down, the roller-coaster of emotional highs
And lows
Empty hotel rooms, laughter filled
Satin bed sheets, tears spilled
Indulging in sensibilities that should not be indulged
I, the cosmic prisoner of my own void