There is a gravity to sadness,
a slick weight that drags me
down into a rusted well,
walls wet with old despair.
Anxiety, like spiders,
hides in the dark.
I claw at the edges,
my nails breaking,
fingers smeared with darkness
and blood.
I jump.
I fall.
The ladder’s missing three rungs.
Even the echo forgets me.
Shadows curl around my ankles,
whispering, laughing,
like old friends turned enemies.
I put one foot in front of the other,
fingers raw,
knees scraped,
breath ragged
as smoke
in a Neighborhood Tavern.
Hope drips in
through cracks
in the walls,
thin light
like whiskey
in a chipped glass,
long-lost,
bitter,
warming my chest.
I rise.
I’m lifted.
I move on.
Sanctuary waits,
an ink pen glows
in the candlelight,
and I take it,
put it to the paper,
and it all resides
deep in my chest.
Jan 18
Jan 18, 2026 at 8:38 AM UTC
There is a gravity to sadness,
a slick weight that drags me
down into a rusted well,
walls wet with old despair.
Anxiety, like spiders,
hides in the dark.
I claw at the edges,
my nails breaking,
fingers smeared with darkness
and blood.
I jump.
I fall.
The ladder’s missing three rungs.
Even the echo forgets me.
Shadows curl around my ankles,
whispering, laughing,
like old friends turned enemies.
I put one foot in front of the other,
fingers raw,
knees scraped,
breath ragged
as smoke
in a Neighborhood Tavern.
Hope drips in
through cracks
in the walls,
thin light
like whiskey
in a chipped glass,
long-lost,
bitter,
warming my chest.
I rise.
I’m lifted.
I move on.
Sanctuary waits,
an ink pen glows
in the candlelight,
and I take it,
put it to the paper,
and it all resides
deep in my chest.
Thank you to everyone who reads, listens, and keeps showing up here. The support matters more than you probably know.
I just dropped a brand-new long-form poetry reading on my YouTube channel raw, unfiltered, and straight from the same place these poems come from.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?vJD_4EDxtGWU
If the work resonates, my books are available on Amazon.
Appreciate you all.
Thomas W. Case
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