I forgot how to write poetry.
I used to feel words pouring out and
dropping
onto paper.
Now I'm
support
support
support
and ripped apart to be fed,
piecemeal,
into the jaws of altruism.
My work is not my own,
only there to satiate the
hunger
others fake,
as they
jam their hands, filled and overflowing with
my soul
into their gaping maws, their mouths full as they
scream for
more.
"Are you sick?" they ask, bits of me flying on their
spittle
as they demand I
give
give
give
as they
pretend
they are eating
themselves.
--J.M. Morgan, 12/04/2025
Theme : Self, Others -- "I have no mouth and I must scream"