Lurking Shadows

Waking every morning now,
looking into the mirror,
the bags under my eyes seem to grow,
and become a much darker shade,
it’s like I have become a bandit or something,
trying to wake up from dreamless sleep,
the flesh below the eyes,
soft and very tender,
signs of tear lines river down,
faded wet stains they have become,
showing what skin is dense out,
my back is stiff,
boxed tightly against a rock,
and a hard place that might have spikes,
thin as needles rattling my nerves only more,
taking a calming breathe,
does little right now,
yet there isn’t much else,
it’s becoming another morning,
that won’t pull me out of this deep grave,
that is more of a sink hole,
growing to my horrors,
it might not be anything else to danger,
nothing is coming close to be threating,
yet that shadow of emotions are near,
lurking over my shoulders,
stalking me even as I take a simple stroll,
just to get away for a moment or two,
unlikely but all the more welcoming,
thinking back on strolls before,
they worked,
inspiring in their own right,
though right now,
I’m finding things a little more hard to swallow,
no pity card here,
for there are others suffering just as much,
and finding out,
for how close they are to me,
even how it is happening to them,
it’s upsetting,
to the most unlikely people ever,
that saying wasn’t wrong,
stupid as it goes,
no good deed goes unpunished,
no bad deed goes under the radar,
and to that,
keeping it short,
well damn,
we all just got fucked harder than mount Tambora infamous destruction,
again . . .




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