In the alleys of your heart
In the backstreets of your brain
from the constant buzzing beltway
under rusted lock and chain
In the pain inside your sternum
the boiled marrow in your bones
lurks an ever-growing darkness
over jagged rocks and stones
In black valleys of depression
and the not so grand delusions
In a vice grip of obsession
In your manic-plagued illusions
With a never-ending stipend
of more than you can bear
an abundant over-ripened
softened fruit
of deep despair
An undefined sad solitude
that something is amiss
always on that taunting edge
of that welcoming abyss
an open-ended sadness
a journey never-ending
exhausted by the battle plan
of constantly pretending
You’re looking for an exit
a respite from the black
An offramp from the sadness
a train that jumps the track
“I can’t believe he did it
I can’t believe he’s gone
no one truly knew
the darkness of his dawn”
bendingtheneedle 