I sat under the quiet trees all the restless afternoon,
Dreaming of what had been and never more could be:
Bitten the clouds, the declining canopy of air
Weary with insects weary with bats.
Black days black nights.
The benches of the dead set out, the dining dead.
At eight I rose, bitten the clouds,
A dog barked dead and long
Down the river of dead sights.
The thistle over which the dead goldfinch dreams of seeds;
The crimson road that marks the accident.
In courts, in currencies of plenty, wherever you are,
Do you hear the frogs croak, “Katharine”?

The wind whispers
through the night
casting darkness
blotting out light

The inky blackness
is soon devoid
of any light
nothing but the void

The sunlight approaches
creating elongated demons
Tendrils of shadow
weaving ink into your feelings

The door is only a step away
from leaving this awful place
But when you turn around to leave
This nightmare becomes a dream

hello again--

i fell off the "write everyday because it's good for you" wagon
and instead have been reading,
and doing yoga
and trying not to wish for death,

and endless nebula of darkness and void space
cosmic light exploding over in over in the reaction
of night,
this black goes on
inside my head
this pulsing of "should i be here"
"is there a point"
"can i really do anything to change the world"

so i just float through,
sipping coffee and reading Dracula
and hoping that it's enough
for now--

Sparkles and twinkles
One breathes and lets go and dies
Blackness kills us all

It charms the blackness in my heart
Wading through the depths of the despair
Emerging for air then plunges deeper
It seeks out the weaknesses then clings like a cancer
Squeezing and squeezing
Rests then squeezes again
I’m convinced of my faults as I’m cross examined every minute
Because time is measured in pounds here
Autumn gives way to cooler winds but this
This is a season of endless clamminess and emotion
I’m reminded to bury this thing that I’ve created
It’s a construct of my making, as if I’m a God
And if I were God, I would end this reality and blanket it in blackness
Like my heart

Darkness:
Darkness was my pain
My rod, my staff, my cane
For darkness I became

Not for evil, power, or gain
Nor for lust of mighty reign
But because I held such disdain
For the things to which I am chained

From the sky it fell like rain
A dark and growing stain
Chilling my shredded veins
The source of all my shame

Moonlit summer shore
Blackness deep waves sing
He walks
A pencil writes His thoughts