lust engages my core hammers my mind i thirst endlessly mismanage my soul for centuries time travel eludes my reality but i beg for a chance, a bite, a taste of it— moonshine, potbellied stove, blew up, sky-high into the woods and i ran to the cave and hid from authorities i dug a ditch into the earth a wormhole a beggars grave i sat in wait i regained my strength i came to the place i blew up and lit the pot again i lust after the moonshine i mix the sun into the herb, the weed the pit of gomorrah over takes, i plead to the spirit gods and the ether rises like heathens unseen.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Adam Neumann on Unsplash
The Artist From The Inside Out 
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