After a 2019 from hell and back and to hell again, I have once again reached a joyous place. Hoping I will not sink into the grasps of the dark place, knowing it could be lurking around any corner. Currently, I cannot feel the emotions I felt when I wrote these two poems. The first was written about a month ago while walking in the dark. The second was written two weeks ago on a particularly tough Wednesday eve.
Anyway, at the risk of exposing my sole
Grief's twisted face rises from swirling black mist below.
"Today you are mine."
A gnarled hand lurches out, pulls me under.
Wounding me deeper deeper inside twisting turning grasping pulling internal organs.
Disrupting neuron telegraphs.
ALABASTER facade hides turmoil within.
Flames rage, destroying hopes and plans, creeping vines of despair fill the dark void.
Loneliness and grief walk hand and hand
Complimenting each other as they stroll searching for their next victim.
Leaving me in torturous solitude.
Laughing at my resistance.
Feeds on itself
Finding related negatives
Attracting unrelated troubles
Collecting electric charges
Crackling static lightning ball
Tearing the soul
Blackening the heart
But alas. There is hope in despair. Trust me. Happiness can be found.
The title, Twisted Fate, is stolen from a short story available in my Beyond the Visual Cortex collection.