Darkness

The darkness comes early this time
Of the year.  That's a joke.  The darkness
Has clung to me, like a burr I might
Have picked up in a forest, for decades.
This twenty-first century has been a blur
Of nocturnal excursions.  I stumble.
I fall.  I cannot distinguish the things
Which bring pleasure from those
Which bring pain.  If I wasn't bound
To a world of light, the alien realm
From where family beckons, trust me,
I'd finish this journey abruptly, a shot
In the temple, a handful of opiates,
Pulling a shroud over me.





Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 33 times
Written on 2022-11-07 at 12:35

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
The darkness and the cold are sinister conspirators. Separate from each other they are quite manageable. Divide and conquer!
2022-11-08