the feed

”...i feed from you…”
its a chalker
i know but true
when you’re happy
or you’re angry and blue
you escape to me
i’m the story of you
i’m absorbing…

a thin vale
in a chamber of pages
a true type peers
into open faces
there…
two eyes thirsty
in the nameless ages…

oh
“i’m an oxymoron”
so say some sages
“where’s the beef”
from the so so critics
but maybe
the tricks on them
the feather in my cap
might be their pen