The Cold Hunger

The Cold Hunger

A Poem by R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

A collab between R.J Calzonett & Aurora. We took turns writing this poem. Aurora wrote the first, third, and fifth parts. I wrote the second, fourth, and sixth parts.


The Cold Hunger For a Soul




I won't incinerate photographs of ancestry and ailed heart 

I won't smoke infinite cigarettes to burn out 

Nor drown in bottles of ales and drink tears in silhouette.

Can't let it heal though, I'd scrape my raped heart, 

Won't let it smother itself in solitude, in deficiency of a tint,

Until I break skulls and sink in ail of blood and drink in

And immerse in revenge of loss, until I cool over the perspire.

And ashen in incandescence of molten rage.

Vaporize splendour of gold cast dark hearts and platinated evil spirits

I'd make you sob and writhe, beg in excruciating torment 

Verses incarcerate you and abuse like I suffered once.


Balancing On The Last Tightrope


People broke me into shattered glass

Just so I could put the pieces of broken hope

Into my missing vessel pretending to be wholehearted

And cut through the chains that bound

My connection to the outside world

I backed away from the streets I knew, in full moon

Looming over the stars reflecting in the sewergrates

While the world cried for blood

Someday’s when I face this world alone

It looks the other way

To lock eyes away and never see the truth

Buried in solitary

The gears are still turning

My bodycounting down

Tick tock softly

As the seconds fade like the rain in a bloody mist

Like the darkness kissed

Balanced on the fingertips of the abyss

Chalice of malachite drinking in my cysts


Prisoned Ends


Our own selves share nightmares of world destruction
Ink gleams on ringed froth reconstructions of dead skeletons.
Conflagrant hearts bleeding through the pen, we write how world sustained
Through atrocious barbarous men and poor hungered trunks never fed but torn,
Bleaching the highs and valleys with bones of dead and blood shed.
Deprived of kindness where husk dies and humans lie,
Somber heartbroken crooked freak men died in tints of hate.
Clasped the thistle and sob inside pierced through broken ribs
Bleed till toxicity pays the owed generosity to pain,
Despite of love, the hate sprouts and rose to such, they couldn't fall back on soft moss,
They won't fall again the thistle holds hooked against their muscles,
They stumble on your way and call, they start on you and end within once again.


Own Little World in the Tunnel


I lost my old-sideways of thinking

Half the mind to be blind to your viewpoint, your hallucinations translucent

We’ll never share the same dream

I will never awaken to the light at the end of the tunnel

Put simply; I am the tunnel

Backtracking through the path that brought farther me away from happiness

There are no one else’s shoes to walk in on this road

I hold my footing, my ground, the shadows stray

You are only someone who walked away from that

And I honestly hope that gets you somewhere better

So I can finally be left alone in the darkness, at piece with the puzzle

With my cards playing solitaire locked in place like a pawn on the board

Right where you left me

Right where you should have been

Right where I lived in my own little world

The city sleeps in alleyways

Concrete mausoleum of dreams

The moon sleeps like a bulletwound in God

The monster that once was sleeps, and I’d be a fool to wake him

Nothing else sleeps so soundly here

Everything is off-tune

The melody of melancholy is inviting

But it always overstays it’s welcome

When the people say goodbye to this cruel world and blame me

I am only brick and mortar

I don’t feel for those who shackle themselves in their own webs

The low hanging fruit hangs by a thread

But I cannot sow together something that doesn’t know what it means to cut loose

So you're free to leave me here

Rip apart the tear I shed

My husk and cast aside the dice of shadows playing craps with their tin cups

Like a memorial of what was once the fabric of this world

Interwoven curtains buried on the final stage

Patching up the wounded ragdolls that swing like chandeliers

There isn’t any light here

Disfigured by the firebrand-newborn again

Closed in with the smoke underneath my skin

Burning hatred that is not incandescent rage

Just the ashes grasped by dirty hands of fate

Just the memories that left me fumbling around in the dark

Chasing fairytales as they slipped through my fingers

Reaching for the end/s (of the earth)

Fallen behind the times that wait for no one

No second chances to present shapeshifting in this day and age

For old times long past on during this outdated period of relapse

Another daydream land that lost track

Its train of thought never to reach a destination

Simply to ride the rusting rails of eternity

Shedding light on the outcast shadows of a man

Because I lost my old-sideways of thinking

Years ago inside my head

Trailing off into the unknown path

Until there was nowhere left to run

Behind Cold Bars


I find myself abandoned behind bars,

My hands reach none behind the glass prison

I sit down on the cold baked floor with a hungered stomach

That drinks blood of its own.

I melt like snowflakes on crooked walls,

Mold in tears and scarred courage of thousands of tongues.

I lie down looking up at heavens, with no courage but hope to fly once more,

To eat it up out of love and hunger for loss

Empty the cold hunger for a soul.




My mouth has spoken so many words smothering me in dead songs

Breathing in the music and exhaling rhymes, metaphors

Fumes of the womb

Music of the moon

Trials of the industrial nocturne

Telephone lines the raven’s used to flock to

Before they became their own carrion

Eat your heart out hollow apple core

It is a heavy burden, a hard pill to swallow

There is nowhere left behind, no angel to follow

Barren collection divine, contagious séance wanderers wallow

The shadowlands fathered with their doppelgangers

And the light at the end of the tunnel

Just makes this blind society a darker place than it should have been


© 2020 R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

Author's Note

R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)
"Catastrophe", "Prisoned Ends" and "Behind Cold Bars" are by Aurora.
Balancing On The Last Tightrope", "Own Little World in The Tunnel", "Wallow" are by R.J Calzonetti.

I promise I read every single review, and I generally will reply to them. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be happy to hear anything you feel needs sharing. Whenever you write on my shortcomings or breakthroughs, or the themes of my poems, or share ideas and friendly criticism, it decides my next poem to an extent. I will listen, learn and be thankful. And 99% of the time, you'll get a reply unless you're trolling me.

My Review

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This is so good. A epic poem that held my attention till the last words. Sometime we escape and learn too late. We were okay elsewhere and found deadly ending. Thank you my friend for sharing the outstanding poetry.

Posted 1 Year Ago

R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

1 Year Ago

And thank you my friend, for sharing this poem with me.
Coyote Poetry

1 Year Ago

You are welcome my friend.
This is the most integrated I've ever seen a collab between you & Aurora. Even tho you spelled it out specifically, which parts are hers & which are yours (I made a note in my mind to pay attention to this so I could compare) . . . but very quickly I forgot who-wrote-what & felt this was a smooth union & journey to those places where life feels like an awkward walk. All parts felt like an equal blend of complex wordplay with more straightforward & conversational spills. I also really enjoy how there's a mix of short & long poems . . . the short ones feel lighter, somehow . . . while the longer ones feel like a deep dive into the mysteries (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 1 Year Ago

R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

1 Year Ago

Although it's not my favourite of our collabs, I still had a blast making this with Aurora. We were .. read more
Oh My, I understand nothing at all! I do have my own imagination but I could not reach or climb over your imagination. The truth is, few stanzas made me feel so into beauty of poem.

Posted 1 Year Ago

2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

1 Year Ago

As Aurora said, we greatly appreciate that you took the time to read this poem, and we'll continue w.. read more
This comment has been deleted by the poster.
Ngawang Tibet

1 Year Ago

t’s not you guys’s lack of ability to interpret, the problem lies my side. I am on the side of r.. read more
depression of the mind and soul,locked up in a make believe prison

Posted 1 Year Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


1 Year Ago

Sometimes the bricks are weakened and then poetry slips off and reach out. Thank you so much for rea.. read more
R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

1 Year Ago

Happy to hear your interpretation of the poem, and glad you enjoyed the read!

1 Year Ago

well alright then,you`re welcome
Thank you so much Jack. I'm really proud of this piece. 😀 It sounds awesome! I waiting for other reviews.😀

Posted 1 Year Ago


1 Year Ago

I love the illustration part, I think we can do our next collaboration with original illustrations, .. read more
R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

1 Year Ago

I think we did a great job! I also agree that original illustrations would make for a even more natu.. read more

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5 Reviews
Added on April 19, 2020
Last Updated on April 20, 2020
Tags: the, cold, hunger, for, my, soul


R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)
R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

Burlington, Halton, Canada

Most of my poems can be differing lengths depending on the time you want to spend reading them. You can avoid reading anything brackets, or read it all. If you want an in-between, you can read only th.. more..


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