Darkness

Darkness descended on the 6th floor, usually known as a place of hope & light. Darkness came disguised as light & warmth, offering promises of love and nurturing. I accepted those promises gladly, anticipating days of laughing in the sun But then, those promises were revealed to be lies & then the cruelty of darkness rained down like so many flying fists. Yes, a banquet of deception was served & I ate my fill, yet returned to the table for yet another serving. The poison of broken promises corroded body and soul, & I lay bleeding in the harsh realm at the edge of survival. Dependence: another poison; when you rely on those too sick to function, disaster is sure to follow. Desertion: darkness invites dependence by enfolding the lonesome soul in a love embrace, but darkness is too sick to love. Darkness withdraws from the clinch and flings the lonesome soul into a pit of doubt. Fear stalks every footstep. The bleeding heart is left with only desolation. ____________________________________________________________________________ Tonight I will walk the lonely streets without a source of comfort. No smiles, no embraces, not even chemical comfort. This December like most Decembers will be a wasteland in my life. Perhaps I expected better than that. Stupidly, I heeded the promises of darkness. And where is darkness when needed? Perhaps somewhere having a good cry or a cold brew or an epipaphy or a raging inner battle or a sweet dream. Too often, the location of darkness is shrouded in mystery. To review: Darkness descends and covers my landscape. Dependence bites my ass like a scorpion. Deception hurls me into confusion over and over again; a very slow learner is I. Um, dim, dense, slow on the uptake I'll drink from a bitter cup tonight and tomorrow, too many tomorrows; I'm too stupid and scared to jump in front of a bus. so I'll have to take my bitter MEDICATION, BABY! & AIN'T IT A CHILL & A THRILL TO KNOW YA FINALLY AIN'T GONNA DODGE ONE MORE BULLET? mmm, okay, just don't forget to swallow your nightly dose of DESOLATION. It's good for the soul, like darkness. After all, who d'ya think is driving that bus?Written in a state of anger and depression, which is like intoxication. Written December 6th, 2001 © on Dec 06 2001 10:23 AM PST   10 • 0 • 1