at the edge of night
where abandoned dogs
tarry
in the pitch
an evil impends

cordate horrors
pour out to the
floor
of a room
now on
fire

hold against it.
a dimness in the shortened days.
this lupine night extending
inward and out.

it's been there since the beginning,
unrecognizable at first but
a more certain predilection
now.

toward darkness perpetually,
imperceptibly saddening your brow,

shifting over all these decades
it sinking its teeth
into your nape.

familiarly a consistent pressure
its absence unimaginable
its staunchness unendurable.

one day you awaken with a fear
of dimly lucent days.

a weakened sun
coughing light through those
tendrils, laying hold of
the chattering sky,

made in haste and hate.

last night i slept
not but a little.
my hand nagging
and gnawing. nerves
leaping against inert,
numb flesh.
but it’s all progress,
i must remember
to see it as such.
the other way
is doom and it’s always
nigh. it takes
no small efforts
to keep it from
leaping at my face.
the doom is ready
and waiting for
my vigilance to taper.
gnashing those slender
fangs, spitting sparks
at my enkindled mind.
it wants to make its move.
so i fight and stay
awake lest my guard
wanes down and
this doom barges in
to tear and raze
my world to bits.

now,
we can fix it,
we can fix anything.

provided there are
enough medical
sutures and clean
needles.
and pills
of appropriate
doses.

but
what will be,
will not be
what you want.

it may barely
be what you need.

this room.

hazed and browned
like some stinking
opium den.

inside that curling
smoke you hear a
sigh. a slithery
whisper.

the devil flashes
his smile. his sharpened
gleaming steel.

it slips between the ribs
and bites your lung.
you cough up your
wallet and blood.

your teeth rust.
tarry air seeps from
your nostrils.
your heart hardly
beats anymore.

the sunlight slows
and your eyes dim.
it’s just
a little salt water.
there, in the corner.

you’ve learned to climb those branches
surprised at your own sprightly agility

higher and higher you go.

all those watching
are now impressed

higher and higher you go.

they will love you
as long as you keep climbing
they will adore you

ahh but when you falter
and fall
when your mangled claw
loosens it’s grip
when the boughs
give and break

your abrupt dissent will be
considered a betrayal
something
done unto them
undeserving of such a thing

you’ll meet scorn face to face
bewildered and crestfallen
but unsurprised

this reeked of inevitability
from the start

gripping the throat
a trembled hand

teaching you a
lesson. is this the
way it ought to be?

your brave face
going dark,
those eyes fill
with blood.

this is stupid.

without a point.
with no end.

something always
gives. at this moment
your windpipe

yielding.

my hand is a mangled claw.
healing? sure. but
most definitely mangled.
i haven’t put out new music
in over two years.
should this matter?
to the world at large,
it is a resounding no.
but my soul,
my soul depends on it.
my soul
anemic and weakened
staggers around the
corners of my memory.
i try to nourish it.
to feed it
what i can but
it’s been war
for a long time and new
horrors have arisen.
i ration out my beleaguered
heart to it. my soul can’t
hold it down and vomits
out the gruel. i hold its
sick head in my hands
i whisper words of encouragement,
i tell it things will be
alright, as bombs go off
in my head and
the rafters come down.
it is fevered and coughing,
i clean it up as best
i can and put on
my bravest face.
i don’t want to spook
my soul. i let it rest.
i let it cry. i let it be.

and now I have my hand
to clean.

my heart has always
harbored a darkness
i leaned into it often

the inky black
velvety with ache
it was a way to be
the only way
i understood

to gain a comfort
in that pitch
a price had to be paid

it was paid
and even though
i don’t think of it
too much anymore
regret browns the edges
as it perpetually looms
in the periphery

waiting

you’ve made me invidious
with your light,
your smile tinged
with regret
all this could have
been different
if only my courage
didn’t leave me
when you had to make
those choices
and yet
there you are
stalwart against
the bleak darkness
of the world,
protean to the
circumstances,
radiating forth
a pure and easy light
because you know
with the wisdom
hidden there in the slight
upward curl of your
lip and the soft squint
in your eye
that the outcome
of those choices
could have been
something far worse
and a lot more
less than favorable.

the rains come heavy
and swift, the
long, low rumble across
a sky, the clouds
spilling darkness
over the sunlight.
now,
there are different types
of indifference, some
of malice and pain
some of steel and bone
a set number of
revolutions per minute,
an upward trajectory
and it’s over just like that.
water pouring into the basement
wind unroofing your house
blood blisters bursting
between the sutures.