I've not liked any poem I've written since my cat died...and I've been through a long spell of depression... my brain doesn't work the same way? I don't know. But at least I wrote something...
Midnight
In a city that closes down at dusk.
I hang on the mind’s
window ledges
Like an onyx spider
dangling
From a spindly web of
gauze.
Shell-shocked and
cell-locked
By my thoughts – a
lost cause.
Mid-flight,
Insanity spreads its
wings,
Becoming the
mundane.
And hope?
A cigarette flame,
its ashes to ashes
Twist and turn to
rust, turn to dust.
Smoke-fuelled, hope
dissolves like whispers,
Drifting through
dead air.
The knife always
slashes.
The axe always
falls.
Misanthrope -
Yet one part scarred
romantic
Though clearly
that’s in vain.
Asphalt
Suffocating with
bleak swells.
Grotesque raucous
families
Congregate on
sunshine-y days
And seem not to obsess
with churning guts
Over life’s decay
while I always dwell.
I do still laugh at
strange things.
My own fault?
I ended up here,
I don’t know why.
