Necrophagia

A reluctant chair

pushed under

a writing desk

Sprawled across it

face down, yawning,

my journal awaits

I have been away

hiding from myself

for some time

The pen has lost

its way around

the heart

and keeps going

in wide circles

looping the mind

like some jogger

possessed, bent on

losing weight

Alas, the weight of memories

is rather much to shed

for any paper or pen

I had better tried

my hand instead

at some diet

and stop at once

binging

on the dead.