All at once, there’s no one there,
the dark, an isolation tank.
The world outside faded away,
a post-apocalyptic prank.
The light here that lingers on,
electric in the morning dew.
This joyous, often mellow song
that shows it’s face to me and you.
I’m excommunicated, now,
shunned, it seems, by those I love.
Black hole, it lingers here, anon,
crushing fractious head above.
Perhaps, I overthink too much.
Every thought, catastrophe;
maverick mountains, molehills grown
in usual, post-haste anxiety.
My burden and my onward sorrow,
a division so intensely personal.
The fate that I must always follow
—black dog consumes his fill of offal.
For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.